Elusive Peace
by Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu
Summary: Luke is enslaved by Jabba the Hutt, but he hopes for a better life, and he must find a way to be free. But will escape really bring him the elusive peace he so desires?
1. Slave: Worthless

**Title:** **Elusive Peace  
****Author:**** Deja Vu  
****Summary:**** Luke is enslaved by Jabba the Hutt, but he knows he is meant to live a better life, and he must find a way to be free. But peace is always elusive.  
****Rating:**** Mild language, some violence, some blood, a few semi-graphic descriptions of torture.  
****Disclaimer:**** I don't own Star Wars (or Lincoln's Gettysburg address, which a later part took some inspiration from), but this story is mine.  
****Major Characters:**** Luke, Vader, Mara, Obi-Wan, and others.  
********Author's Notes:** **The idea of Luke as Jabba's slave is somewhat similar to one of SkyJade's stories, but I started writing this before I read it. Still, a nod to her for the idea, regardless. Also, note that this story was created by combining two plot bunnies, which means that Part 1 is a rather different beast from the following parts...So, sorry about that. =/ Also, I've taken a little liberty with bits of the SW timeline.  
****Author's Thanks:**** Thanks to for their good quote database and to the Wookieepedia for its awesome Star Wars database. Many, many thanks to Moy for her wonderful beta reading of chapters 1 and 2! Big thanks to Kitt for helping me come up with a band name (a parallel of Trout Fishing in America) and for extensive help (meaning major but wonderful revisions) on chapters one through three—she had excellent ideas and **_**really**_** helped out a lot (particularly with chapter 3—the lovely craziness there you can thank her for). And many thanks to Phantom Jedi for beta-reading the whole thing (for all she looked at, of course, but especially for her great suggestions concerning the ends of chapters 8 and 19).**

****

**PART 1: SLAVE**

**CHAPTER 1: Worthless**

"_I can't believe there's still slavery in the galaxy." _—_Padmé Amidala, __The Phantom Menace_

****

Worthless.

He was worthless.

That was something Jabba's brutal Head of Slavery had to continually remind him.

He was only kept around until he became strong and skillful, so that Jabba the Hutt could sell him for a healthy sum...

He could still remember_ the _day vividly_..__._

The day his guardians had been murdered.

****

It was a cold, barren Tatooine night.

A young boy was standing in the door that led down to the pit of his family's homestead. His aunt and uncle were sleeping soundly, but something—he wasn't sure what—had woken him. And so he had come outside to look up at the stars.

But the stars could not comfort him. There was something unsettling about the night's silence, and he shivered and hugged his arms to himself. That's when he heard it—the telltale hum of a landspeeder racing across the dunes. He frowned, wondering what anyone would be doing outside at this time of night, and kept his gaze fixed forward. Finally, he saw the approaching vehicle. Dust billowed up behind it in a cloud, and a few grains of sand glistened in the starlight.

He blinked, trying to make out the occupants of the speeder. He could first only see that there were two figures inside. As the landspeeder came closer, he realized that it contained a human male and a tall alien figure.

His heart was pounding, and his feet were frozen in fear. He had seen these two before.

The human was Dypsnea, a man with dark and scruffy hair—but what he remembered most was the man's face. With a permanent sneer etched onto it, his was a face that brought to mind the stone idols created by primitive civilizations surrounded by misfortunes.

Pelisse was the name of Dypsnea's alien companion. He was a horned biped with glinting fangs, and Luke had been haunted by nightmares about him ever since the first time they had come. These two were dangerous, and Luke realized they must be after his uncle again.

The landspeeder had stopped, and they were jumping out of it. They had spotted him.

Somehow, he managed to move his feet. He turned and fled down the stairs to warn his aunt and uncle. On the fourth to last step, he tripped.

The air was knocked out of him as he hit the ground _hard_. With great effort, he brought a shaky hand up to cup his bleeding mouth. He'd hit his teeth on the last step.

He struggled to stand, but he was in pain from having the air knocked out of him. He only made it a few steps forward before he felt a hairy hand grab him, digging into his skin with painfully sharp claws. He wasn't even able to cry out—Pelisse had stuffed an old rag in his mouth.

The alien placed him down on the ground. Dypsnea crouched beside him. "Move a muscle from this spot," the human breathed next to his ear, "and I'll kill you. If you even so much as sneeze, I'll kill you."

Tears streaking down his face, Luke nodded. Dypsnea moved toward the door that would lead him to Owen and Beru Lars and gestured Pelisse forward. The alien disappeared inside, and Dypsnea followed.

Luke was staring up at the stars wide-eyed when he heard the screams. A lone, dark desert beetle scuttled by his arm, the single neutral witness to the startled shrieks and final death-cries of two human beings. Luke, the non-neutral witness, turned over onto his side and sobbed into the uncaring ground.

The two assassins finally returned. The rag had fallen out of Luke's mouth, and he was no longer even trying to be quiet. Pelisse jerked him to his feet and tucked him under his right arm. Luke struggled to get free, but he was unable to make the alien release his strong grip. Every twitch of Luke's just seemed to make the alien tighten his hold.

The beetle that had been beside Luke was still moving around, but, with a small crunch which signified that Dypsnea's scuffed boot had found a target, even that last witness was gone.

The peace of the night was once again broken as the two partners started their speeder and sped away. Their next stop was Jabba's Palace. After an encounter with Jabba's gatekeeper droid and his majordomo, the assassins dragged Luke into the Hutt's throne room.

Jabba was calmly smoking a hookah pipe. He looked down at his guests with his bulbous eyes, and Dypsnea and Pelissa nodded their heads as a gesture of respect. Luke, however, did not even look at the crimelord.

[How did it go?] Jabba questioned them in Huttese.

The protocol droid near him translated everything he said, so there was a delay in response from the pair of assassins.

Dypsnea replied in Basic: "Very well, Your Excellency. We paid them back for the debt they owed you and brought back this boy as a prize for you."

Luke was quiet. He wanted nothing more than to punch the life out of his two captors. He still couldn't believe what they had done...

[His name?] he heard Jabba inquire. The Hutt picked up a Klatooine paddy frog from the aquarium to the left of his dais and plopped it into his mouth.

After the protocol droid imparted the question, Luke replied for himself, though it was not with an actual answer but with a sniffled question. "What'd they ever d-do to y-you?" he asked, finally looking at the immense figure before him. Tears were shining in his eyes, and his chin was trembling.

Jabba gave a deep laugh. [They owed me interest on a loan, boy.]

As the droid translated, Luke suddenly found himself distracted by a strange creature in a cage hanging above Jabba. "Wh-what's that?" he asked, pointing upward. His sobs had quieted at the sight of the furry lizard.

[You are a curious boy,] the Hutt chuckled. [That is an ysalamir, a creature which prevents Jedi from giving me any problems. There are a few in this room, you will notice...Now, tell me, boy, what is your name?]

After listening to the translation, Luke held his head up high. He was proud of his name. "Luke. Luke Skywalker."

A Kowakian monkey-lizard sitting on Jabba's dais laughed, "Ohh, Luke Skywalker. Eh-ha-ha-ha."

Jabba's already huge mouth widened slightly in surprise. [Skywalker?] he echoed. [Like the podracer? Hmm...Perhaps you may be of use to me. Guards! Take him to the slave quarters, and make sure he gets fitted with a transmitter in the morning,] Jabba ordered with a gesture of his hand.

Two Gamorreans stepped forward and grabbed Luke by his arms, lifting him into the air. Luke started yelling and kicking, but the thick-skinned guards ignored his attempts, though one grunted upon being hit by a foot on the nose.

[Our payment?] hissed Pelisse in his native tongue.

Jabba's droid translated the question.

[Ah, yes,] Jabba chortled, the monkey-lizard laughing along with him. Then he pushed a button on his hookah pipe. The grate in front of him disappeared from beneath his two guests' feet.

[You demanded a terrible price for such a simple task,] the Hutt said calmly, [and I refuse to be taken advantage of. Ho ho ho.]

Dypsnea fell quickly, not having expected this turn of events. Pelisse, however, leaped to try to reach safety. He managed to get a tentative hold on the edge of the floor with his massive paws. Jabba's guests and lackeys crowded around to see the spectacle, and a chuckling Rodian smashed Pelisse's right paw with the butt of a blaster rifle. Snarling, the assassin let go, holding his right hand in his left, realizing his mistake too late as he fell down into the pit.

The excited piglike guards who had grabbed the boy let him loose and joined the crowd around the grate, distracted by the thought of violence. The frightened child's eyes flickered around nervously, and, seeing the possibility of escape in front of him, he began to sneak out of Jabba's court, heading toward the entrance. He stepped tentatively forward—

—and froze as a black gloved hand gripped his shoulder.

"What do you think you're doing?" a low, sinister voice whispered in Luke's ear.

The nine-year old boy jumped several inches into the air, scared out of his wits. The spindly hand tightened its grip and twisted him around.

"You will ssspeak when ssspoken to!" hissed the dark figure before Luke. The being was clad in tight black clothes, and he radiated anger and annoyance. He had orange-speckled eyes, but if it hadn't been for the forked tongue that flicked quickly in and out, Luke might have mistaken him for an elderly, decaying man.

"L-looking around," Luke whimpered out at last.

Again, the tongue came out, testing the air. "Yesss, likely ssstorry." He grabbed Luke's shoulder again, and this time claws dug into the poor boy through the humanoid's gloves.

Luke yelped, only to have the fingers tighten their grip. He was maneuvered back over to the grate, where Luke's captor eagerly watched with the rest of Jabba's court. The frightened boy was firmly held in the humanoid's grip.

The huge transparisteel door inside the pit had just opened, and Jabba's newest beast ambled out. It seemed laughable, with huge black, teary-looking eyes, long floppy ears, a velvety nose, long whiskers, huge hindlegs that looked way too big even for its five-meter tall owner, stubby webbed forepaws, and a short, fluffy tail. In fact, some of Jabba's patrons did chuckle, but they did so lightly under their breath.

Somehow, Luke knew the creature was dangerous, and he did not laugh. Instead, he peered through the gate with morbid curiosity. He knew he was about to see his guardians' murderers be killed. Was this justice?

Sneering, Dypsnea laughed at the creature insanely. It looked down at him with sad eyes. Then, quick as lightning, Dypsnea was snatched up off the ground, dangling above the Qprayveeta in an enormous, clawed paw. The beast opened its mouth in a snarl, revealing rows of glistening white teeth. As quickly as he was grabbed from the ground, he was swallowed up, the creature not even bothering to chew.

Luke took in a deep breath. One of the murderers had been killed.

Pelisse was smarter than his partner, and his eyes darted around in a search for a weapon. His quick surveillance failing, the alien flattened himself against the wall in hopes that the creature's clumsy paws wouldn't be able to peel him off.

His hope wasn't too far off the mark, but, since the creature couldn't pick him up, it started to smack its oversized paws against Pelisse. Pelisse swiped at him with his own claws, and the beast rumbled in pain. Its black eyes started looking less teary and more vicious, and it lowered his head and rammed against the other again and again.

Pelisse eventually crumpled under the Qprayveeta's assault, falling into unconsciousness. Raising its head, the beast let out a loud and triumphant war cry. It turned back to its prey, and it didn't take long for Pelisse to meet the same fate as his partner.

Luke's eyes were as round as Tatooine's twin suns; he was horrified by what he had just witnessed. All he wanted to do was go back home with his aunt and uncle and sleep in his warm, comfortable bed.

He clenched his small fists. He didn't _want _to believe that they were dead and that he was in a strange place full of battle-ready barbarians. Yes, it had to all be just a very long nightmare, he told himself...And yet, he knew it wasn't a dream.

At least, he told himself, his aunt and uncle's killers had gotten what they deserved. They _did_ deserve death, didn't they?

Now that the entertainment was over, the hostile humanoid turned his orange-speckled eyes back to Luke. "Follow me," he hissed.

Complying silently, Luke trailed along behind the cloaked figure, concentrating on not crying. His uncle had always told him that big boys didn't cry. He had done far too much of that today.

Luke was led back to a dark, dank room where he was given a loincloth and told to put it on. He wasn't thrilled at the idea of stripping his clothes in front of the other—his aunt had taught him that modesty was in all cases a virtue—but he was even less thrilled at the thought of having it done for him.

After Luke was done changing, the humanoid nodded in approval and then gestured for him to follow once again. He was taken to another room that was even damper, but it was bigger than the first. Several people who looked like dancers and slaves were scattered about. Some of them were sleeping with unpleasant facial expressions, as if they were trapped in nightmares they could never escape.

The cloaked creature barked out an order to a redheaded woman, a slender human who was dressed in a skimpy purple outfit that surprisingly seemed to suit her. She nodded and pulled the boy aside, squatting beside him. Seeing that she was taking care of him, Luke's humanoid captor disappeared back into the halls.

"Hi there, sweetie," the woman cooed. "What's your name, honey?"

Sniffling, Luke wiped his nose with his hand and then answered softly, "Luke."

"Jabba calls me Pateesa, but you can call me Delana." She smiled at him reassuringly.

Luke gave a small smile in return, even though it was one of the last things he wanted to do. But soon his resolve broke, and his lip trembled. "I want my aunt..."

Delana made a quiet "Aww," and then told him, "Well, darling, I'm sure your aunt's in a better place...For now, I'm going to help take care of you. Don't worry, things will be okay." She hoped they would be, but she doubted it. She hated when Jabba had little ones brought in; all too often, she knew, he'd had their parents or guardians killed—it wasn't enough for Jabba that they be made to suffer as slaves. Few of the children survived for long, and those that did had a bleak future ahead of them.

She always tried to keep an eye out for them, but death and degeneration were usually unavoidable. And yet, she thought, as she looked at the boy in front of her, she had a feeling that maybe this once it would be different. She certainly prayed it would. The kid had a cute, innocent face; wide, pretty blue eyes; and what seemed to be a kind disposition. She hoped it would last. Many children went crazy in Jabba's place before they had even been there for half a year.

"P-promise?" The sapphire eyes looked up into her brown ones for an affirmation.

She hated to get his hopes up, but the words came out before she could stop them. "I promise. Now, it's bedtime for you." Delana escorted Luke to a small, uncomfortable-looking pallet on the floor. "I know it's not much for someone who's used to sleeping in a real bed, but it'll have to do..."

Luke nodded, getting down onto the dirty pallet. He rested there for a moment before looking up with sleepy eyes. "G'night..." Absentmindedly, as if it were a tradition he went through every night, he added, "Love you..."

Delana winced. He probably wouldn't even _like_ her for long. But there was nothing she could do about it other than make his life as comfortable as she could. She was Head Dancer, but all that really meant was that she kept the other dancers in line and Jabba was less likely to try to feed her to one of his pets. He generally preferred non-human dancers, but for some reason he felt something close to admiration for Delana, possibly because she was no-nonsense in her dealings with him. Still, even with her small amount of power, there wasn't much she could do for the boy, but she would try...She was always trying.

She only hoped that he didn't end up hating her the next day. A slave transmitter would be surgically placed inside his body to ensure that he never escaped. If he tried, he would be blown to pieces. The knowledge of that was usually enough to drain all the hopes out of people.


	2. Slave: Freedom

**PART 1: SLAVE**

**CHAPTER 2: Freedom**

"_The moment the slave resolves that he will no longer be a slave, his fetters fall. Freedom and slavery are mental states." —Mahatma Gandhi_

****

The day after his aunt and uncle had been murdered, he'd had a slave transmitter placed inside his body. If he ever tried to escape, the transmitter would explode. That was when he started to put the days of playing with toy ships and dreaming of becoming a pilot behind him.

Now, he could barely even acknowledge his dream of escape to himself.

He made a few friends in Jabba's Palace, but most of them were sold, killed, or changed to the point that they were no longer recognizable. His only constants were Delana's support of him and the Slave Keeper's constant chorus of 'worthless.'

His days as a slave often blurred together. There were simply varying levels of bad with the occasional bright spot offered to him with a kind word from Delana. Sometimes, she snuck him treats from the kitchen, but that was about all she could do. She was about as helpless as he was.

Luke was kept busy with miscellaneous jobs, and on this day he had been called to talk with EV-9D9, the palace's droid supervisor and thus the head of Jabba's Cyborg Operations.

He started to speak, only to be cut off by the sound of another poor droid being tortured in EV-9D9's workshop.

Finally, the droid supervisor turned to him. "The master wishes for you to attempt to fix this droid," the sadistic machine said, sounding as disgusted as it was possible for her to sound. "It has valuable information in his databanks. The master will be most displeased if you do not succeed."

Darsst—Jabba's Slave Keeper—had been told he might be mechanically inclined, and Luke had been able to fix every major machine that had been given to him. He even enjoyed doing it—it reminded him of helping his uncle on the moisture farm. Still, he felt daunted as he gazed down at the silver protocol droid—or, at least, at what was left of it.

Quietly, he scooped the parts into a box. There was no sense in pointing out to EV-9D9 that it might not be possible for him to repair the droid. That would probably just earn him a beating from the Durnalian Slave Keeper.

He started to leave the room, only to realize that he'd forgotten one of the droid's eyes, and he scuttled back inside to dig around in the parts. At a look from EV-9D9, he explained, "I'm looking for an eye."

"Droids do not need eyes to function, slave," the droid said. After a few seconds, though, she pointed to where a protocol droid eye lay half-hidden.

"Thanks!" Luke said, placing the eye on top of his box of parts.

He left the Cyborg Operations room and soon made it into the slave quarters. After nodding to a pair of Rutian Twi'lek dancers, he set the box down next to his pile of tools and plopped onto the floor next to it. He usually worked next to his pallet in the slave quarters so that he wouldn't be in EV-9D9's way. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. She disliked humans, and he was scared of her.

He was shuffling his tools around when he realized that the court jester, Salacious Crumb, was peering into his box of parts.

"Crumb, come on!" he exclaimed, trying to shoo the pest away.

"Come on, come on!" the Kowakian monkey-lizard parroted. He reached in the box and grabbed the droid eye on top.

"Hey!" Luke said in frustration. He shot to his feet. "Gimme that!"

"Hey, hey!" cried Salacious Crumb. Then the cackling creature began scampering away with the part.

"Gimme that back!" Luke called out. Shaking his head in annoyance, he started running after the jester. "Give it _back_, Crumb!"

Laughing all the way, the Kowakian continued evading him, finally leading him into Jabba's well-populated audience chamber.

When Luke realized where he was, he skidded to a stop. Salacious Crumb continued moving, however, hopping up to his perch by Jabba, where he held up the droid part and laughed. "Crumby eye!"

Jabba began laughing at the monkey-lizard's antics. "Ho ho ho." The Hutt's bulbous eyes then looked at Luke. [You need something, boy?] he asked in Huttese.

Luke, who had learned a bit of the Hutt language during his time at the palace, was able to understand what Jabba said. "I—I n-need that eye to f-fix the droid, Your Ex-Excellency," he stuttered.

"Awww, fix the droid," Salacious Crumb snickered.

[All right, Crumb. Give him the eye,] the Hutt instructed, sounding amused.

"Eye," the monkey-lizard said sadly. He held the eye out with his small hand, but Luke was going to have to actually go and retrieve it from him.

Swallowing, Luke strode forward. Several eyes were on him, belonging to dancers, musicians, bounty hunters, assassins, guards, and the various other dregs of the galaxy—that was why he hated going into Jabba's audience room. Dangerous and watchful beings lurked in every corner, and, while a slave was not worth much to those eager for bargaining chips with the Hutt, one could never be too careful.

Trying not to wince or show any disgust at the grossness of the Hutt's enormous body, Luke retrieved the eye and said, "Thank you, Excellency."

He practically fled the room after that, Salacious Crumb's laughter ringing in his ears. He hated that jester—most beings in the palace did, save for Jabba. He did feel just a little bit sorry for Crumb, though—the monkey-lizard had to make Jabba laugh once a day or die. So far, he'd succeeded, but surely he wouldn't last forever.

On his hurried way down the hallway, Luke was looking down at the ground and had the misfortune of slamming into Jabba's Slave Keeper. The Durnalian's mood had worsened since Luke had seen him last.

The boy backed up a few steps, blinking in surprise and slight pain.

"Foolissssh, worthlessss boy," the Durnalian hissed. "You mussst watch where you are going."

"S-s-sorry," Luke stuttered.

But Darsst's orange-speckled eyes were filled with fury. "Turn around, worthlessss," he commanded in a harsh, low voice.

Swallowing, Luke slowly turned around. His breath was caught in his throat as he placed his trembling hands against the wall, revealing his bare back to the Durnalian. Darsst had always told him that the male slaves wore loincloths so that their backs would be bare for punishment. As he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, the boy wished desperately that he could have at least been wearing a tunic to provide even the slightest bit of relief.

He could hear the telltale swish of fabric as Darsst grabbed the black whip at his side. "Worthlessss," the Slave Keeper hissed.

Luke closed his eyes and waited for the first blow to come.

****

"Aww, my little farmboy, not again," Delana said softly.

Luke was lying facedown on his pallet, crying. His back was covered in angry red welts, some of which were bleeding.

She touched his arm gently, and he flinched away from her, trying to bury himself deeper into his bedding.

"Hey, it's all right, Luke. It's just me."

He slowly lifted his head off the pallet. After using his arms to push himself up into a seated position, he turned his body to look at her. His face was red and tear-stained, and his nose was dripping with mucus. "Am I really worthless?" he managed between sobs.

"No, Luke. _No_." She would have given him a full embrace were it not for the marks on his back. After a moment of consideration, she moved forward and hugged his head against her. "No." She gently stroked his hair. Whispering—for the walls of Jabba's Palace had ears—Delana said, "We'll find you a way out of here one day soon, Luke. I guess we'll just have to steal a disarmer from Darsst. I'll think about it, little farmboy." She then spoke a little louder, asking, "Now, what happened, Luke?"

His voice was muffled against her dancer's outfit. "I w-went to Jabba's throne room to—to get a droid eye back f-from Crumb. B-but I r-ran into Darsst." His sobs were getting a little quieter.

"Aww, Luke." Delana hugged his head tighter. "I'm so sorry. Are you working on a droid for EV-9D9?"

He nodded.

The Head Dancer looked over at the box of parts by his pallet. "That looks like quite a task ahead of you. You know—you're the only one in this palace who can put that droid together."

Luke pulled his tear-streaked face away from her chest. "R-really?"

She nodded. "Really. Darsst could never even put half of it together. He can barely even work a comlink!"

That got a slight smile from the hiccupping Luke. "I did see—see him having problems with the buttons on one once."

Delana chuckled. "I bet he wouldn't even know a droid eye if it hit him on the head!"

"Or in the eye," Luke noted with a shaky grin.

"That's right! And you know, if you fix this droid, I bet it'll be really grateful. It's like bringing someone to life, Luke."

"It is?" the boy queried.

"Mmhm." She nodded. "Droids need to be taken care of just like people do."

"Delana," a dancer called quietly.

Delana turned and looked at the awaiting group of dancers before bringing her gaze back to Luke. "I have to go take a few dancers to the Dancer's Pit, Luke."

"Do you need help?" Luke asked hopefully. He liked helping the dancers get ready to perform for Jabba.

"I'm sorry, Luke, but you should really work on this droid. It really needs you, you know? I know _I_ can't help it out." She pulled his chin up. "One last smile before I go, little farmboy."

He gave her a tentative one, and she kissed the top of his head. "Good luck," she told him. "Remember, Luke, you're not worthless—no matter how many times he tells you that you are."

He watched Delana leave with the other dancers before finally turning his attention to the box of droid parts. "You're counting on me," he whispered to the pieces before turning to grab one of his tools.

****

He worked diligently on the droid, feeling as if his whole life were wrapped up in this moment. When he at last put the finishing touches on it, he felt his heart start to pound. This was it. He was finally ready to turn it on.

Positioning the protocol droid so that it was sitting up (he couldn't make it stand up, as he wasn't tall enough to reach its power switch), he flipped the "on" switch.

The silver droid's eyes started glowing. "Oh!" It looked around. "Excuse me, but—where am I?"

"Jabba's Palace," Luke beamed. He'd done it! "What's your name?"

The droid hesitated. "My former master called me 'Opakwa,' a Jawaese term meaning 'spare parts.'"

"Then I'll call you Opakwa," Luke said with a smile. He felt almost like singing. "Are you feeling okay?"

The droid considered the question, running a few quick diagnostics. "...Yes, I think so."

"All right." Luke motioned for the droid to stand with him. "Then we'll have to take you to Jabba. He wants to talk to you."

****

Fortunately, Jabba didn't decide to disintegrate Opakwa. With all the different kinds of beings in the palace, it was helpful to have more than one interpreter droid. Since Opakwa wasn't the one regularly assigned to help Jabba, Luke was even able to see him every now and then. The boy grew sort of attached to the protocol droid and eventually decided that Opakwa was one of his friends just like Delana. He thought it would be okay to have two best friends. The droid turned out to be a bit protective of Luke and was often dispensing advice, though the boy didn't mind. It was nice to have someone else to talk to. He did note, however, that for a protocol droid, Opakwa was a bit quiet. Still, he always answered Luke's questions, at least.

Unfortunately, the droid's presence lifted Luke's spirits a bit, and Darsst was very skilled at sensing lifted spirits.

The day after Luke befriended the droid, he found Darsst ordering him, "Go clean the rancor pit, boy." The Durnalian's tongue flicked in and out angrily. Delana had told Luke that the Durnalians were very few in number due to cannibalistic tendencies exhibited most often in fights among nestlings, and Luke could believe it.

The rancor was Jabba's newest pet monster, and Luke had a feeling this one would be around for a long time. The creature's hideous appearance and lust for flesh meant that the Hutt crimelord felt an extreme admiration for it. And it meant that everyone in his court feared it, even as they were fascinated by it.

Luke gave a dejected sigh. He hated cleaning the monster pit. He normally didn't have to, as his skills were mostly mechanical in nature, but Darsst knew he despised the task and made him perform it when they were low on manpower or he was feeling particularly annoyed.

Luke was in especially low spirits at being made to clean the monster pit because he had been trying to find some time to talk with Delana. He was wanting to know if she had any ideas about how to steal a disarmer from Darsst.

After heaving a sigh, Luke began the walk from the slave quarters to the rancor pit. He shivered when he passed a spider droid in the hallway. When the B'omarr monks believed they had been suitably enlightened, their brains were removed from their bodies and placed in nutrient-filled jars. Often, the jars were attached to droids like the one Luke had just seen so that the monks could move around.

When he reached the monster pit, a human guard told him that the cleaning supplies were already in the room and that Malakili had taken the rancor out for a walk in the desert. The rancor's caretaker was very attached to it, though Luke couldn't quite understand why.

The boy took in a deep breath before actually moving forward. Cleaning the rancor pit was no fun task. It was necessary, as otherwise there would be a sea of bones that might trip up the rancor and mar its performance, but it was disgusting. If not cleaned for a while, the pit was generally covered in blood, guts, and bones.

Rancor pit 'cleaning supplies' consisted of several giant buckets of dirt which were so heavy he could barely move them, a tool to push dirt around with, a bucket of bone-cleaning solution, gloves, and a few other miscellaneous tools. Luke put on the gloves, dumped out one of the buckets on a patch of bloody dirt, and went around with the bucket gathering bits of flesh and intestines and who knew what all. It was hard for him not to vomit at the smell of rotting flesh. His first few times performing this duty, he _had_ vomited. But then he'd had to clean that up, too, so he'd learned to try to control his reaction.

After all the loose flesh was gathered, he set it aside and began gathering bones into a pile. He picked out a few big- and ominous-looking bones, which he cleaned in the solution. Jabba liked having just a few stark white bones around for dramatic purposes. Luke began to pour and scrape dirt over the bloody spots in the pit, making it so that the floor looked fresh—after all, old blood just wasn't as fun to Jabba as new blood. After some of the buckets were empty, he began shoveling some of the giant rancor droppings into them. When he was done with that, he dumped out more dirt and shoveled it around.

Then he put the bones into the empty buckets, and, after surveying his handiwork and fixing a few more things, he started dragging the buckets to the door. The guard, perhaps feeling sorry for him, began helping him with the buckets. Before long, all of the buckets were outside the pit. Luke took off his cleaning gloves and set them on top of one of the buckets.

"Someone will pick them up in a little while," the guard grunted. He looked down sympathetically at the boy for half a second before fixing his face into a blank mask and staring forward into nothing.

Nodding, Luke said quietly, "Thanks."

"Hm." The guard didn't even look at him.

The boy really wanted to go take a sonic shower, but non-dancers were only allowed one sonic shower a week, and it had only been a few days since his last one. Some of the slaves didn't even bathe _that_ frequently. It was fortunate that Darsst had a very keen sense of smell and a sensitive nose.

Still, he'd give up sonic showers for a month if it meant he could have ten minutes alone with Delana. Well—surely he would find time with her soon. Then he could figure out how to escape.


	3. Slave: Escape

**PART 1: SLAVE**

**CHAPTER 3: Escape**

"_I'm a person, and my name is Anakin." _—_Anakin Skywalker after being called a slave, __The Phantom Menace_

****

A few days later, Luke finally had a few minutes to talk with Delana.

"All right, little farmboy," she said as she came over to him, "what is it?"

He looked down at his dirty pallet for a second before looking back up at her.

The eager yet hesitant look on his face told her all he needed to know. "So, it's time, huh?" She smiled at him and then glanced quickly around the room, her eyes finally resting on a giggling pair of dancers. "How about we take a walk?" she suggested.

The boy nodded in relief, following Delana out of the slave quarters and through the palace's dark halls. They passed a spider droid and a Weequay before finally stopping before the Great Room of the Enlightened.

Luke looked at the Head Dancer in fear, but she passed calmly into the room, shutting the door once he was inside. A pointy-eared B'omarr monk in brown robes was tending to a few of the many brain jars in the room and turned to look at them.

"We're sorry," Delana said politely, "but we know that the monks in charge of this room have no allegiance with Jabba, and we would like to talk."

The unconcerned monk nodded and then turned back to what he was doing. There was no point in asking him to leave—the brains would understand them and could tell him what they were talking about if they so desired. Truly, however, neither he nor the brains would be interested in their conversation.

Still, Luke couldn't help but speak softly. "I want to escape." He heard something squish, and he shivered.

The redheaded woman nodded. "I know, Luke. I've been thinking about it, and I have an idea." She pulled out a piece of flimsy she'd hidden in her dancer's outfit. "I managed to get a glimpse of the device that disarms the slave transmitters, and I drew an outline of it on this." She handed him the flimsy, and he looked down at it. "It's not a perfect picture, of course, but Darsst knows so little about technology that he won't even know the difference. Just make sure the device is black. Those are buttons," she noted a few places, "and that's a screen." She pointed to a small square. "There's no need to make anything show up on the screen—it's very rare that the disarmer is used, and I don't think they have any slaves that need to be sold right now anyway."

She placed her hands firmly on his shoulders, looking down at him. "In exactly one week, what you will need to do is have Opakwa distract Darsst at 0500 hours by telling him that I am not feeling well—that should give you a little time to build the fake disarmer. I'll be down in the slave quarters giving the best performance of a sick person anyone's ever seen this side of Tatooine." She grinned. "While Darsst is gone, you need to go into his room—or office—or whatever he calls that dank little hole of his—and switch the fake disarmer for the real one. But be really careful, Luke. Not many people are up that early, but you never know who could be poking around."

Luke smiled and leaned forward to hug his friend. "Thank you, Delana."

"You're welcome, my little farmboy." She gently smoothed his hair. "Oh! I almost forgot—on the back of that piece of flimsy is the code to open Darsst's door. I had to give up a meal or two to get it, but you'll be surprised at what some of the spies around this place will do just for a bit of food."

The boy frowned and pulled back. "Delana—"

"Hey, don't worry. I wasn't even hungry that day." She patted his shoulder. "Now, get along to whatever you need to be doing. You'll need to use that free time to work on your disarmer."

****

A week later, Luke's fake disarmer had been built and Opakwa—who knew Luke was regularly beaten and was able to override part of his programming on the basis that sentient creatures were not to be harmed as Luke often was—had been included on the escape plan. Luke hated bringing both Delana and Opakwa into this, as the former might be beaten and the latter deactivated, but they wanted to help him, and he needed their assistance. And so, at 0457, rubbing his tired eyes, Luke was waiting in the shadows near the door to Darsst's room. He was supposed to be cleaning the rancor cage (which was often done early in the morning so that Jabba wouldn't miss any prime opportunities to have his enemies devoured), but—with any luck—he would hopefully never have to do it again.

At precisely 0500, Opakwa was tapping on Darsst's door.

The angry reptilian humanoid opened the door, looking a little bleary-eyed. "What issss it?" he hissed.

"I'm afraid the Head Dancer is quite sick, Master Darsst!" Opakwa exclaimed. "You must come see. If it is contagious, it could spread to the other dancers, and Jabba might become very unhappy!"

The Durnalian said something unintelligible and then stalked forward, Opakwa following him.

Luke, thankful he'd been unnoticed, stepped toward the door and typed in the code. The door opened, and Luke stepped in and swapped the fake disarmer for the real one. Grinning triumphantly, he clutched the real disarmer to his side and turned around. He stepped outside the door only to realize that EV-9D9 was a few steps away and staring right at him.

"Imbecilic slave," the droid groused. "They are foolish to keep you around. Come with me. Your supervisor must be informed of this violation. He will be most displeased to find that you have been putting your unclean human nose where it does not belong."

The boy followed the droid with heavy feet, dreading what was to come next. Along the way, they came across Salacious Crumb in the middle of a corridor.

"Move, you insignificant pest," EV-9D9 ordered.

"Pest...Oh-ho-ho-ho!" he cackled. Then he sprinted toward Luke and grabbed the disarmer from him.

"Crumb!" Luke cried out in reflex. But as he watched Crumb disappear, he realized that maybe this was best—maybe he'd be able to get the device back from Crumb. That is, if the jester didn't completely tear it apart to spite him.

"What was that?" the droid queried suspiciously, staring in the direction that Crumb had disappeared.

"Just a part for a machine I was working on," Luke said in a voice that sounded sad. That must have been sufficient enough for EV-9D9, as she didn't inquire any further.

A few minutes later, they had arrived at the slave quarters. EV-9D9 told him to stay where he was, and she left him in the doorway while she went to talk to the Slave Keeper. He was tending to Delana, but she had seen Luke and was about to finish her act.

Knowing that excuses were useless, Luke simply sat down and waited, his face buried in his hands. He'd been too careless; he should have made sure the halls really _were_ clear. His heart was pounding, and his palms were clammy.

"Worthlessss," a voice eventually hissed from behind him. "Sssstand up."

His body tensing, Luke did as he was told.

"You don't know what a missstake you have made," Darsst growled. He got out his lash. Luke heard a small sympathetic noise from somewhere and thought it came from Delana.

The young boy closed his eyes and thought of the B'omarr monks. They thought the body wasn't important; they tried to find mental enlightenment.

But as Darsst began to whip him, Luke could no longer think of becoming enlightened. Only pain and tears were available to him.

****

"Little farmboy," Delana cooed. She was crouching beside him, trying to get him to look at her.

But Luke, who ached all over, wouldn't move from his pallet. Even the Slave Keeper seemed to realize he'd gone a bit too far with the beating, and he was allowing the boy to be task-free for two days.

It was the second day of his respite from work, and Luke hadn't moved from his pallet except to use a 'fresher.

"What?" the boy asked in a muted voice. He was hungry, but he didn't want to eat. He didn't want to do anything.

"Someone's here for you," she answered lightly.

He still didn't stir, and so with a sigh she went ahead and made a signal to whoever was behind her.

The sound of upbeat music began to fill the slave quarters, and Luke reluctantly began to smile into his dirty sheets. He loved listening to the musicians—he just hated going up to Jabba's audience chamber to hear them. To be able to listen to them without being up among all those criminals was a pleasure he hadn't known he could have. It was a pleasure Delana had brought for him.

"Come on, Luke, you know you like a little music," Delana said warmly, tugging on his arm.

He slowly got to his feet, and Delana took his hand. "Dance with me, farmboy."

She would occasionally teach him a few dances, telling him he was pretty good for a little guy. Now, she did one of the easier ones with him, knowing his back still hurt but also knowing that he needed to stretch his limbs, as he would be back to work the next day.

She hadn't had money with which to bribe the two members of the Sand Surfing on Tatooine band, but they had been kind-hearted, and, after hearing her story, they had agreed to come down and play a little tune to cheer up a young downtrodden slave.

As Delana danced with the boy, she felt his spirits begin to rise, and, as they did so, so did hers. It was then that she decided she would do anything to help this little boy escape. He deserved to be at peace.

****

That night, Luke—feeling much better—snuck around the palace in an attempt to find Crumb. He wasn't at his usual perch beside Jabba, which Luke figured meant he was wreaking mischief somewhere. Sure enough, the boy finally heard a dancer let out a startled shriek. Half a second later came the familiar cackling laughter. Luke ran to the slave quarters to catch Crumb in time, and he managed to trap him in the doorway.

"Eh-heh-heh," laughed the monkey-lizard.

"Crumb, where's that thing you stole from me?" Luke asked.

"Thing you stole," Crumb echoed. "Awww. Eh-heh-heh-heh."

"I have some Kowakian nuts," the boy noted. He'd managed to steal them from the kitchen. Kowakian monkey-lizards _loved_ Kowakian nuts, and Salacious Crumb was given a daily allowance of them in exchange for making Jabba laugh. Monkey-lizards would gorge themselves stupid on them, however, if they were allowed to feast to their heart's content, so the nuts—which no one else in the palace wanted—were kept in a container which Crumb, with his weak arms, could not open—but which little boys could.

"Kowakian nuts," the monkey-lizard repeated thoughtfully. As Luke opened his hand, he eyed them. Then he tried to jump forward and grab them, but Luke snatched away his hands.

"Parts, then nuts," the blue-eyed child said stubbornly.

Crumb stared at him for a few seconds before gesturing for him to follow. Though the creature seemed to be a fool, he was actually quite smart. He took Luke to a hidden nook which was filled with all sorts of odds and ends that had been stolen from denizens of the palace.

Luke snatched the disarmer from the pile and gave the nuts to Crumb, who happily gobbled them up. "Thanks," the boy said sincerely before jogging off to the slave quarters.

Jabba was supposed to be gone the next morning—off to Mos Eisley to take care of a little business, the word was—so Luke had decided to attempt his escape then. The rancor was out on a walk with his keeper, and Luke was supposed to be cleaning the rancor pit—as he had failed to complete that task a few days ago—but he planned to skip the duty entirely. No reason to muck out cages when he could be out in the open air!

As he lay down on his pallet with the disarmer clutched against his chest, he smiled to himself. Soon, he would be leaving this awful place. He wasn't sure where he would be going, but it couldn't be worse than where he was.

He wanted to say goodbye to all of the dancers, but he couldn't. Delana had warned him it was possible Jabba had a few spies among them—it would be best if he just left.

He sighed to himself as he thought of Delana. She knew he was planning to escape with Opakwa the next day and had given him a purple dancer's costume to remember her by—it was one of the rare ones that wasn't made principally from sheer cloth. He thought it was beautiful, and he loved it, but he wished Delana would go with him. Maybe tomorrow he would see her—maybe he could convince her then.

As he contemplated his escape, he remembered that Delana had reminded him that Opakwa still had a restraining bolt on, so he decided he'd hide a tool in the cloth and remove the bolt when he saw the droid. That should work fine...

A few minutes later, he dozed off.

****

The next morning, Luke stood up and pulled out the disarmer with shaky hands. A few button pushes and an on-screen confirmation later, he was free.

He felt like yelling and laughing, but everyone would look at him funny, so he settled for grinning to himself. He grabbed a tool to remove Opakwa's restraining bolt and hid it in the costume Delana had given him. He was walking down the hall toward Jabba's throne room with the cloth in hand when he saw Darsst running at him and yelling, "Sssstop, worthlessss!"

Luke froze for half a second before turning and fleeing—the Durnalian must have been informed that a transmitter had been deactivated (so _that's_ what that little device the Slave Keeper had kept on his hip was).

Fortunately, there was more than one way to get to the throne room.

As he sprinted down the corridors of the palace, he swerved to avoid smacking into a Rodian, slowed to move around a droid, and nearly tripped over something hard lying on the floor.

He continued flying through the halls. Behind him was the constant noise of Darsst's hissing and cursing. Finally, he burst into the throne room.

He ran across the rancor grate and saw Opakwa standing by Jabba's empty throne. Darsst was following a few yards behind Luke and crossed the grate with a malicious growl. Opakwa pulled the lever on the hookah.

At the Durnalian's yell, Luke skidded to a stop and turned around. The Slave Keeper had disappeared into the rancor pit. Everyone quickly crowded around to peer down at him, including Luke, who pushed through.

The boy couldn't help but laugh as he realized the Slave Keeper had fallen into a giant pile of rancor dung.

Darsst spewed several curses before yelling up, "Guards! _Do_ something!" He struggled to get free of the slimy glop. "Get me out of here!"

And that was when everything broke out into chaos.

There was no one on guard below, what with the rancor's absence, so some of the people in the throne room began scrambling to get to Darsst. In the confusion, a blaster went off.

Luke fell to the ground as the firefight started.

None of the bounty hunters or other criminals knew whose weapon went off, and they split into three camps. Laser bolts flew across the room, and Opakwa tried to carefully move closer to Luke.

An orange Dyeud who was high on spice yelled out, "A righteously wicked battle—all right!" He walked over to the corner alcove where Jabba's plethora of trophies were mounted on the wall and applied a flame to a stuffed tauntaun head. "We're on fire, all right!" He sniffed the air. "Man, that is total reekage."

A brown-armored bounty hunter cried out as he got hit in the arm. Furious, he let off several blasts. One of the blasts caught the new and valuable tapestry hanging on the wall on fire, and the Dyeud shouted, "All right! Bring on the heat! Man, this is so wizard!"

By the time Opakwa got to Luke, smoke was already starting to fill the throne room, and it was getting difficult to see. Delana appeared from the direction of the palace's entrance, looking shocked at all the mayhem. "What happened?" she gaped. Then she shook her head. "Never mind. Let's go."

As they quickly walked toward the entrance, she said, "I've already told Opakwa where to go, so stay with him, Luke. You remember Sand Surfing on Tatooine? Their musical gig with Jabba is up—they're being replaced by the Max Rebo Band—and they're leaving Tatooine for some work on the tourist planet Haodis. They've agreed to let you be a passenger on their ship. They just know your name is Luke—they don't know your last name is Skywalker, and they don't know what happened to your aunt and uncle. Luke, _don't_ tell anyone your last name—keep that close to you. Jabba may put out a bounty for you—he doesn't like to be crossed. Stay with the band, or go to a place with foster care. Just don't tell anyone your real name, all right?"

Luke nodded slowly. He understood, but something about the way Delana was talking was making him sad.

Remembering something, she stopped walking and took the dancer's outfit from him. She felt the tool wrapped up in it and took it out, looking relieved to have found it. "The guards are in the throne room now, so I think it's safe to take this off." She bit her lip as she fiddled with Opakwa's restraining bolt and finally got it off his chest. She handed the dancer's costume back to Luke and then frowned. He was crying. "What's wrong, little farmboy?"

"I'm scared," he sniffled, looking intensely at her with his shining blue eyes. "You're—you're coming with us, aren't you?"

She gave him a sweet but sad smile. Gently, she told him, "I can't, little farmboy."

"Why?"

"I need to stay here and help the people like you who come here," she explained gently. "There have been other boys and girls needing guidance, Luke."

"But—"

"I'm sorry." She put her hand under his chin and lifted it. "Don't worry about me, Luke. And don't worry about you—I know you'll make a great new life, all right?"

He nodded, and she took his hand and continued rushing toward the entrance with him and Opakwa.

They finally stood at the entrance, and Delana turned to Luke and Opakwa. "Go. The both of you."

"But—"

"_Now_." She turned around so that Luke couldn't see the tears gleaming in her eyes.

The boy nodded, clenching the costume in his arms. Then he and Opakwa rushed outside into the bright desert.

If he had been older, he would have refused to leave without her. But he wasn't older; he was just a little boy who did as he was told.

He never saw her again.

****

**Author's Note:**** I'd like to thank Kitt again for helping me rework this chapter. As she noted, it's not a real Skywalker escape unless something's on fire.**


	4. Senator: The Campaigner

**PART 2: WOULD-BE SENATOR**

**CHAPTER 4: The Campaigner**

"_It's been my experience that senators are only focused on pleasing those who fund their campaigns...and they are more than willing to forget the niceties of democracy to get those funds." _—_Obi-Wan Kenobi, __Attack of the Clones_

****

Arelis Antilles smiled down at her adopted son, as proud of him as she would've been had he been her _real_ son.

The eighteen-year old was sitting in front of a vanity, the bright lights bringing out the highlights in his dark blonde hair and making them shine. He was nervous and kept straightening the collar of his white dress uniform, as if that action alone—if properly done—was all that was necessary to make his appearance perfect. He seemed to briefly change his mind about the act he needed to be performing, however, pulling out a faded purple handkerchief from his pocket, clenching it briefly in his hand, and then depositing it back to where it came from. Then he was back to anxiously straightening his collar.

Not that he had any reason to be nervous. The public would love him. Arelis was sure of it.

Arelis Antilles was a dignified woman—an older woman, yes. She was not too proud to admit it. She was proud of every gray hair she possessed and wasn't dismayed to find that more kept appearing. She'd earned them, and she wasn't so vain as to try to hide them with hair dyes like some of the other older Alderaanians she knew.

A member of the House of Antilles, and the older sister of the prominent Bail Antilles, Arelis nonetheless strayed from many of the ideologies of the House of Antilles. For instance, she was still a bit bitter over the resolution of the Alderaan Ascendancy Contention, whereby there was a marriage between the Houses of Organa and Antilles and the House of Organa ended up with more power. Perhaps that was part—but just one small, small part—of the reason she was encouraging her son to run against Bail Organa's daughter for the position of Senator. However, Luke himself was certainly more than willing, if a little hesitant at the thought of competing with someone who had once been his great friend.

Smoothing back some of her son's errant hair, she hugged his shoulders. "You will do me proud, Luke."

He smiled at her in the mirror, the movement brightening his anxious face. "I hope so, Mother."

Arelis shook her head, grinning proudly at him. "Even all these years later, I'm still thanking my lucky stars for that day I found you on Haodis."

"So am I," he said.

She still remembered their meeting as if it were yesterday.

****

_She was making the trek back to her ship, wanting to put the tourist planet behind her. She'd decided to go to Haodis on a whim and hadn't even ended up _liking _it. Its natural beauty paled in comparison to Alderaan's, and the musical tastes of the region in no way matched her own. The trip was a bust, she'd decided, and she couldn't wait to blast off-planet._

_She was passing by a stall in the market when she saw him._

_Before her, there was a small boy in oversized clothing wandering around with wide eyes, a fearful expression, and a handful of brightly colored fabric. He looked—well, not quite lost, but not at home either._

_She hesitated only a second before speaking to him—she was a softie at heart, despite the front she often put on. "Where are your parents?" she asked him as she moved closer to him._

_The boy froze and looked up at her. Though he didn't seem to find her threatening, he spoke to her very shyly. "They're dead."_

"_I'm sorry," Arelis said sincerely. "Do you have any guardians?"_

_He shook his head. "I just have Opakwa." It was then that she noticed the grime-covered protocol droid that had apparently been quietly tailing the boy. It looked as if it had just come from the absolute pit of the galaxy after a century's stay, and she found herself wincing at the sight of it. "We came to Haodis on a band's ship to—to escape a bad place."_

_Well, that was it for her. The little boy had officially stolen her heart. She smiled down at him kindly. "Why don't you and your droid come with me to live a wonderful life on Alderaan?"_

_The boy seemed hesitant, so she pressed further. "You can't just live your life wandering around on this wretched planet. At least come stay with me for a while, and if you don't like it, well, I'll bring you right back here. I promise."_

_Still uncertain, he looked to his machine companion for reassurance and got a nod in return. "Master Luke," the droid said, "you should listen to her. She seems sincere."_

"_Okay," the boy agreed._

****

The band members had been a little sad to see him go, but they were aliens who were ill-equipped to care for a human child, so they had bade him farewell and good luck. Arelis had thanked them for their kindness and given them a rather large monetary sum which they had tried to refuse but which she had insisted they take.

And now, years later, here they were. How proud she was of him.

"I don't regret leaving Haodis," Luke said, reassuring her once again. "I love Alderaan, and I love you, Mother."

She embraced him again. "I love you, too, Luke. So much more than you'll ever know."

She was a widower, so she'd had to raise him up alone, but she really did love him as if he were her own, and he'd never wanted for anything. Still, even with as kind as she had been to him, he retained a rather low sense of self-worth; certainly, he did not have the overflowing sense of self-worth that she herself possessed (she thought she'd earned the right to be a bit pompous, quite frankly). But he had such a kind heart that she knew the people of Alderaan would love him, and he would be able to feed off their attention. Even _attempting _to become Alderaan's senator would be good for him—she was sure of it.

There were various qualifications necessary to become a senator on Alderaan, and Luke—who had just turned eighteen—now met all of those requirements. The situation was a bit tricky, however. While Arelis was on the High Council of Alderaan and had a lot of political clout, tradition was a threat to Luke's campaign. Traditionally on Alderaan, whenever a member of the High Court (which was now simply composed of the House of Organa) ran for a seat in the Imperial Senate, that member always ran unopposed, for it was custom for all members of the High Court to take at least one term as Senator. And it seemed only logical for the politically savvy Leia to take her father's place—she had been _groomed_ for politics, after all.

Arelis and Luke certainly had nothing against Leia—they'd been good friends for a long time until Luke had ventured deeper into Leia's domain: politics. The young woman was now likely quite hurt by Luke's bid for the position of senator; after all, her eye on the position had been no secret, even while they'd been growing up. By moving toward the position, Luke had basically driven a wedge between them.

The problem was that Arelis hated Force users, which meant that she hated those in power. To bring down those in power, however, one must accumulate power oneself. Luke knew that as well.

For his protection, Arelis had made sure that Luke was trained with the best of martial arts and weapons experts, despite the Alderaanian weapons ban, and she suspected Bail had done the same for Leia. She had even made sure he was taught how to pilot ships, which he had turned out to have something of a passion for. When he was a teenager, he asked to learn a bit about slicing and stealth, and she had used her many funds to procure him some good teachers. She proudly suspected he could take on some of the Empire's best covert agents, and he had even proven the great extent of his skills a few times...But perhaps most important were the ysalamiri.

Her eyes flicked toward the door. Outside it, she knew, two attendants were standing with a pair of the creatures. She and Luke made sure never to travel without a pair, and they even had several of the quiet creatures scattered all over their home.

Shortly after she had taken Luke in, she had told him about the evil of Force users. He had taken the lesson to heart and had even revealed the existence of a creature called an ysalamir which could protect one from the Force. After months of research, Arelis learned that the creature lived on Myrkr, a planet which the Jedi had seemed to avoid. She had gone to the planet with a few others, and they had learned more about the creatures and taken several with them back to Alderaan in nutrient cages that were fashioned with the help of some people living on Myrkr. She and Luke found their constant presence absolutely necessary, as the creatures would put them on equal footing with any nearby Force users.

After taking in a deep breath, Luke stood up, and she embraced him tightly against herself one more time. "Come on," she said warmly. "Let's go awe the crowd."

****

"My fellow Alderaanians," Luke began, speaking to the people spread out before him in a quiet yet commanding voice that somehow managed to carry throughout the crowd, "I stand here before you not to bring the Alderaanian Ascendancy Convention back to the forefront nor to restart the dispute between the great Houses of Organa and Antilles. I am not running for senator because the noble Leia Organa desires the position. No." He paused, shaking his head slowly. "Instead, I wish to become our planet's senator because I wish to reverse a terrible part of our galaxy's history. Yes, I admit to you right now that I run _not_ for Alderaan but for the sake of the galaxy...For there is a group of people that has caused the galaxy much pain. We know of these people...as Force users."

There was a subtle shift in the crowd, as the Force was rarely spoken of in public, and the young man clenched his fists at his side, though the action was just barely noticeable to Arelis. "As a wise person once told me, the Force users called Jedi taught their members not to love and not to fear, while the Force users called Sith taught their members that they should hate everyone." He lifted his head up, spearing the crowd with his gaze. "Both were wrong," he stated firmly.

"As living beings, we should _feel_ those emotions that were given us, not repress them. Should we always act on them? No, of course not. And should we hate our brothers and sisters? _No_," Luke bit out, slamming his hands down on the podium in front of him. "But we must realize that the teachings of these Force users were wrong, and both the Jedi and the Sith tried to wrongly take control of the galaxy. The Sith are controlling the galaxy even now with an iron fist. But the galaxy should not be left in the hands of people with supernatural powers; it should be controlled by normal beings such as ourselves—beings who rely on the strength from within, not a power from without."

The crowd was quiet, and he swept his crystalline blue eyes across its members. "I speak what you have felt but not said due to fear. What good have Force users done for us? They have only tried to control us. They were the causers of this wretched war—the war they call the Clone Wars in history books, the war that they _claim_ is over," he began to speak in an almost-shout, "the _war_ that led our _despairing countrymen_ to place all of our planets' _weapons_ onto the warship _Another Chance_ until the day the High Council might finally _call the ship back_."

The volume of his voice went back to normal, though his tone was now filled with contempt. "These fashioners of history may have called this war the Clone Wars, but _I_ call it the Force Wars. It was but a ruse for the Sith and the Jedi to fight one another. You have felt this with your hearts, though you may not have spoken it with your mouths. Unlike Leia Organa, I am not afraid to speak my true opinion of our galaxy's rulers. I am not _afraid_ to call for the creation of a new Republic, a Republic which is not run by Force users of any kind, a Republic in which the galaxy is run by the people and for the people—a Republic in which all sentient beings are treated as equals."

He had been building up, speaking words as they fell from his mouth, no longer looking at the viewscreen prompter nestled into the podium. And now, he paused, closing his eyes and breathing in the crisp Alderaanian air. "That, my friends—my brothers, my sisters—is why I wish to run for the position of senator."

****

Afterward, Arelis found her son slouched in a chair with his eyes closed. The speech had drained him, and he was exhaling and inhaling slowly and deeply, trying to regain his equilibrium.

"You did beautifully," she told him, smiling.

"Thank you, Mother," he replied, not opening his eyes.

She knew he didn't believe her, but it was the truth—she had seen several faces in the crowd, and she knew that many people had been moved by her son's words. Perhaps soon, he would see that she was right. Just as she always was.

****

It was at a party hosted by a prominent Alderaanian that Luke Antilles was finally willing to admit to himself that he had built up quite a following. The process had been slow at first, and he had been wondering if he'd even made an impact, but now he was able to truly witness the momentum he'd been gaining. Though Alderaanians hated turmoil, they loved democracy, and Luke Antilles' points were not without their validity. Now, an unusual vein of discontent was running through the pacifist planet—he was learning that more and more as well-dressed people kept approaching him with looks of significance.

The attention made him a little bit uncomfortable, but his mother was eating it up. When he forgot someone's name, she would whisper it to him, and he would reach out to shake or kiss the hand proffered him with a smile and a greeting. He'd said hello to what he thought was his fiftieth person that night when he noticed Leia Organa approaching the drink table.

"Excuse me," he pardoned himself quietly, and his mother and the two people she was cheerfully talking to all nodded in acknowledgement.

After dodging a waiter, he found himself by the drink table, and he came up behind Leia as she was picking up a glass of R'alla mineral water. Quickly grabbing his own glass and smiling whimsically as it caught the light from the beautiful chandelier above him, he greeted, "Hey, Leia."

The young woman saw him and paled. She was dressed all in white with her hair intricately put up on her head. She was beautiful, she was poised...and she was walking away from him.

"Leia," he called softly, trying to pursue her without looking too obvious or desperate.

But he could practically sense the anger rolling off her, and there had even been a hint of it on her face before she'd begun hurrying away.

He finally slowed and watched her disappear into the crowd. After giving a sad sigh, he returned, defeated, to his mother. He wondered if his childhood friend would ever be able to forgive him. He'd often felt a strange connection to her—almost like love, but not of the romantic kind.

Perhaps, when all this was over, she would forgive him.

****

A few days later, Arelis was sitting and sipping her afternoon tea when Opakwa came to her and said, "Bail Organa wants to see you, Mistress Arelis."

Having not heard the quiet protocol droid's approach, Arelis nearly dumped her tea all over herself in surprise, but she recovered rather nicely and told Opakwa smoothly, "Do show him in."

As she watched him walk away, she smiled at how he shined. When Luke had first introduced him to her on Haodis, she'd been shocked at his appearance, though she'd tried not to show it. On her return to Alderaan, she had made sure to have the droid immediately refitted with new plates and polished until she could see her face in the silver coverings. She had made certain that his appearance never got even half so terrible ever again, and the droid seemed thankful for it. He did enjoy his oil baths.

"Ah, Bail," Arelis greeted, gracefully standing. She set her tea aside on a nearby table next to her plate of half-eaten cookies and a small vase holding a single Alderaanian lily. "What a pleasure to see you." Her brown eyes glittered cheerfully as she offered her hand to her guest.

But Bail Organa did not shake or kiss her hand, instead looking grim. "You know this is not a pleasure visit, Arelis."

Picking her tea back up and taking a sip, she said innocently, "I don't know what you're talking about, Bail."

The man clenched his fists in barely restrained anger. "You know damn well that—" He stopped and took in a deep breath. "Arelis. You're a smart woman. We both know that. By encouraging that boy to follow this path, you've put him in danger. You've put _Alderaan_ in danger."

Arelis tilted her head, pursing her lips. "My _son_ knows very well what he's getting into," she told him firmly as she placed her cup back on the table. "And I'm afraid you're getting ahead of yourself as far as Alderaan is concerned. Even if the whole planet supported Luke, how could Alderaan be in danger? If we were ejected from the Empire, we would simply become self-governing. And Alderaan has powerful allies that would stop the Empire from sending Star Destroyers to bombard Alderaan's surface. You're just jumping at shadows, Bail. And you know that's not a very wise pastime."

Bail bit his lip, a muscle in his cheek twitching. "There's more, Arelis. I can't tell you what—but just know this: if Luke continues down this path, Alderaan will have a lot more to worry about than just which senator got elected."

"You may show yourself out, Bail," the woman told him cheerfully, picking up a cookie and nibbling on it before adding, "I am sure you remember the way."

"Arelis, _please_—"

"Must I _really_ show it to you?" she queried, sounding put out and putting the cookie back down on the plate.

Sighing, Bail Organa gave a slight stiff bow. "I hope you know what you're doing. Continue as you are, and if you weren't in the Emperor's sights already, then you soon will be."

"Goodbye, Bail," Arelis said resolutely, returning her attention to her tea.

Bail shook his head—as if he wanted to say one more thing but for some reason couldn't—before finally turning and leaving.

The dowager smiled into her cup.


	5. Senator: Capture

**PART 2: WOULD-BE SENATOR**

**CHAPTER 5: Capture**

"_Anakin, let's be fair. Today, you were the hero, and you deserve your glorious day with the politicians." _—_Obi-Wan Kenobi, __Revenge of the Sith_

****

Luke Antilles was a determined campaigner despite the Organa family's opposition; he went on a tour of Alderaan to get support in even Alderaan's more remote cities, he had several publicity spots on Alderaan's local holochannels, and he had even created a campaign headquarters which some of his followers ran. Alderaan would soon be making its vote, so it was crucial that he remained visible.

His actions were such that they gained notice in even the upper part of galactic society. His anti-Jedi and anti-Sith campaign was at first amusing and then threatening to the galaxy's emperor, who finally decided to send his loyal apprentice to deal with the insurgent and ensure that an uprising did not occur.

Darth Vader was none-too-pleased to be sent to Alderaan. He knew his trip was absolutely necessary, but the planet reminded him too much of—

No. It was best not to think of the past. He stared straight ahead, clearing his mind of those poisonous thoughts.

His shuttle arrived on-planet during Alderaan's night cycle. He planned to go directly to the would-be politician's residence, as his sources had informed him that the young man had just returned from his tour and should be resting at home. There, he would take care of the Emperor's dirty work.

He took his speeder from the docking bay through the streets of Aldera, the nation's capital, finally guiding it to the lofty residence of Arelis Antilles and—more importantly—her son the orator, Luke Antilles. He hated politicians, so he would take a small amount of pleasure in capturing this one and then executing him on Coruscant. Perhaps he would enjoy it even more than the Emperor would. At least his trip here wouldn't feel like a complete waste.

There _was_ something strange about this Luke Antilles, however. The Emperor had first sent a few assassins to kill and then a few bounty hunters to capture the politician, but all of them had mysteriously disappeared. As Antilles was one of those politicians who did not travel with a bodyguard—and since Alderaan did not condone the possession of weapons—this development was particularly odd. He had been trained to handle threats on his life, evidently. But why?

Vader suspected that it had something to do with the boy's adopted mother, Arelis Antilles. She had never made public her stance on Force users, but her support of her son was well-known. Perhaps she had planned for the day when the boy would come forth and lambast Force users, and she had made sure her son would be prepared to handle assassins. She was, after all, known to be a very shrewd woman.

But little did she know that Darth Vader himself would be coming to personally take care of her son. He smiled beneath his helmet, feeling a dark sense of satisfaction. The boy would learn what happened to people who were foolish enough to cross the Dark Lords of the Sith.

When Vader reached his destination, he parked his speeder several yards away from Arelis Antilles' large residence. He walked forward to a spot that he knew was just outside the security system's boundaries and reached out with the Force to disable the alarms, only to freeze with the realization that he couldn't touch the Force.

_Ysalamiri,_ he thought suddenly, frozen in spot. He cursed himself—why hadn't he noticed it before? The Emperor had occasionally made use of the creatures, so he wasn't a stranger to the sensation of Force-emptiness they brought on.

"Freeze," a sickly sweet feminine voice said behind him.

He started to turn his head only for his vision to be filled with a flash and then blackness.

****

Luke shook his head with a smile. "You are something, Mother."

He and Arelis were both standing outside in their robes and staring down at Darth Vader, who had crumpled onto the ground.

"I told you the Emperor's lapdog wouldn't bother coming in a civilian ship," Arelis said smugly. "These Imperial-types are so predictable, so certain of their invincibility." She waggled her finger at Luke. "I told you it was a good plan to have a few pairs of eyes watching the docking bays."

The young man chuckled. "Yes, well, now we need to figure out what to _do_ with him."

"All right," Arelis sighed in resignation. "But I really _was_ enjoying his groveling."

Rolling his eyes, Luke bent down and picked up Vader's legs, while his mother shuffled forward and picked up the Sith Lord's arms.

"_Kreth_, this guy's heavy," the dowager said, grunting in a manner that was decidedly unladylike.

"He's a metal monster, Mother, of _course_ he's heavy," Luke said slowly, trying to hide the fact that he, too, was having problems.

"He's also noisy," Arelis griped. "That respirator is getting on my nerves. It's a wonder the whole neighborhood hasn't been woken up by it."

They finally managed to carry him to a bedroom in the back of the house, though they almost dropped their cargo a few times. Their home had several guest bedrooms. This one was seldom-used not just because of its location and its lack of a window ("I still don't understand why they would make a bedroom without a window," Arelis occasionally complained) but because of its small size. The dowager preferred to impress her guests with the more luxurious bedrooms, and she hadn't used this one in years, though it was still cleaned regularly.

They placed the Sith Lord on the bed, and Arelis pulled out her blaster and shot him with a stun blast.

"Mother!" Luke exclaimed in surprise.

The older woman shrugged. "It can't hurt to be cautious. It wouldn't do for him to wake up before we've figured out what to do with him."

Her son snorted, a bit amused. "Ever the practical one, huh? All right...Well, we seem to be in a bit of a tight spot."

"We could kill him," Arelis suggested hopefully.

"We can't do that," Luke said firmly. "Besides, Palpatine would simply get another apprentice."

"Just an idea."

"No, Mother."

"Fine."

They were both quiet for a few minutes as they thought.

"You know," Arelis started slowly, "if we _do_ kill him, we probably don't have to worry about Palpatine getting another apprentice—he and Vader have killed all the adult Force users they could find, and it would take several years to raise up a child. Hopefully, by then, Palpatine won't even be a problem anymore. He _is_ ancient, after all."

Luke shook his head. "We're not murderers, Mother."

The dowager cocked an eyebrow. "What about those assassins and bounty hunters?"

"They were the dregs of the galaxy, not prominent governmental figures," Luke responded without hesitation.

"And the difference is?"

The young man sighed. "Please." Their deaths already pricked his conscience a little.

"Fine, fine. We'll have more fun this way, I suppose." She looked down at the Sith Lord, whose limbs and cape were splayed out on the deep red comforter, and smirked. "Look at him, sleeping like a little tyke."

"He's not sleeping—he's unconscious," Luke pointed out.

"Get a sense of humor, boy." Arelis grinned, cocking an eyebrow. "I did raise you with one of those, didn't I?"

"Perhaps," the young man replied, trying to hide a smile. "I guess we just keep him prisoner."

"It _will_ probably stop Palpatine from bombarding Alderaan due to your riling people up," Arelis acknowledged, "but now I'm wondering—what's to stop him from coming here and wrenching this caped cyborg away from us? Vader didn't think he needed help, but Palpatine sure won't come without it. Even if the whole planet were on our side, I doubt it'd prove that much good against what old Wrinkly-Skin would bring."

Luke furrowed his brow, thinking. "You're right, Mother. I think what we should do is erase a few records and make it look like an offworlder shot down his ship. Since there won't be a body inside, it will either be assumed that he was taken captive or that he escaped. That might buy us a little time."

"And what about _him_?" Arelis motioned with her head down at the unconscious Sith.

"We'll keep him prisoner in here tonight, tie him to the bed...We need to go take care of his ship and those records tonight before it's too late. I know a few people who can help us."

"Loyal?"

"Yes, and they won't ask questions," Luke affirmed. "Tomorrow night, we'll go hide him in that cave I found several years ago when we visited Crevasse City."

His mother looked skeptical. "It's rather pretty down there—you sure an overeager tourist won't stumble on him?"

"That cave looked virtually untouched," the young man noted. "We can take some lights and some food down there, keep him restrained, and give Opakwa a comlink and have him watch over him. Palpatine would expect us to keep him somewhere in Aldera, but Crevasse City's close enough that it will be easy to check on him. We'll have to be really careful when we visit him, however; Palpatine will likely have us followed. Maybe we should even stow all of our ysalamiri there for a few days—I doubt they'll protect us much against Palpatine, and they'll just make us _look_ like we're hiding something."

Arelis gave him a grim look. "We'll probably both be interrogated. It might be easier just to kill him."

"We won't talk, and the Emperor won't kill us in hopes that we can still reveal Vader's location. We _can't_ become monsters like the ones we're fighting against, Mother."

"I know." She gave him a small smile. "Though it might be easier, hmm?"

"Perhaps." He smiled back. "Now, let's go take care of business."

****

It was almost daylight when they returned. A crowd had started gathering to look at their handiwork, though of course no one in the crowd _knew_ it was their handiwork. They'd handled the job well, and they were both proud of it.

Arelis went straight to bed. Luke, though he was just as exhausted, went to check on their prisoner. The Sith Lord was well-restrained—perhaps overly so, as they had wanted to make entirely sure that his mechanical limbs would be of no avail, should he regain consciousness.

"Hey, Opakwa," the young man greeted. The protocol droid was watching over the Sith Lord.

Opakwa lowered his head. "Greetings, sir. He has not stirred, though I imagine he will probably regain consciousness rather soon."

"Hmm, you're probably right," Luke said after a second of thought. He took out his hidden blaster and stunned the Sith Lord.

"Uh, excuse me, sir," the protocol droid said tentatively. "Are you going to keep stunning him like that?"

"No," the young man answered honestly. "When we get him to—" he hesitated. Perhaps it was best to not actually let Opakwa know where they would be taking Vader. Luke started over. "When we get him to where you'll be watching over him, we'll let him stay conscious. We just don't want him causing us any trouble right now."

"Ah, very good sir," Opakwa stated, sounding as if he felt a bit better.

Luke stared at Darth Vader for a few minutes. It was hard to believe that a monster who had caused so much death and destruction in the galaxy was under the same roof as him. His mother had been right—it would be so easy to simply kill him and remove one heinous creature from the universe. In doing so, he knew he could save countless lives.

He hated this man—if he could be called that—and he knew his mother would not blame him if he took a blaster to him or ripped off his life support. He could claim that it was an accident—that it was a mechanical malfunction—that it was the shock of one-too-many stun blasts—that it was the fault of someone who had followed them inside and shot the beast before running off...

But it wouldn't be right. He would be stooping down to the monster's level, and he would have to live with that for the rest of his life.

After one last glance at the prone Sith Lord, he brought his eyes to the silver droid. "Good night, Opakwa," he said gently. His hands probed his pocket for the faded purple fabric resting within.

"Good night, Master Luke," the robot returned kindly. He was staring down at his ward dutifully.

Luke smiled to himself. The feel of the fabric reassured him, and he felt he could finally go to sleep. As he left the room to become reacquainted with his much-desired bed, he found himself feeling very glad he'd had the foresight to make a few special modifications to the droid. If anyone other than Arelis and Luke entered the cave, the droid was supposed to erase all of his memory from a point in time a few days before his introduction to the Sith Lord to the present. A false memory would then be planted of some offworlders who had stolen him from the Antilles residence and forced him to guard Darth Vader till they returned.

He knew it was likely the droid would just get turned into scrap metal regardless of what he believed had happened, but if there were even a chance Opakwa would survive, Luke wanted the droid to remember their history together. He was a bit sentimental about droids that way.

****

**Author's Note:**** It being New Year's Eve and all, I figure, here, have another chapter. :D**** Thanks for the reviews. **


	6. Senator: Arrest

**PART 2: WOULD-BE SENATOR**

**CHAPTER 6: Arrest**

"_I was really too honest a man to be a politician and live." _—_Socrates_

****

It didn't take long for the news of Darth Vader's disappearance to be broadcast all over the Holonet. Civilians were soon forbidden to approach the area surrounding his crashed shuttle, and Stormtroopers were crawling the street like white-carapaced ants. Meanwhile, a blindfolded Vader, a nervous Opakwa, and the ever-quiet ysalamiri were all stashed in a hidden cave below Crevasse City, along with plenty of supplies suitable for droids and humans.

In two weeks, Alderaan would be choosing its senator. Luke still continued to give speeches so as not to arouse suspicion, but he generally kept them fairly neutral and Alderaan-specific. With as many Imperials around as there were, he knew it wasn't wise to arouse their anger, lest a firefight break out (for the Imperials had insisted on bringing weapons on-planet despite the ban).

Luke knew he couldn't make visiting the Sith prisoner a habit, particularly with so many Imperials around, but he wanted to talk with the Sith Lord. Why exactly he wanted to, he wasn't sure, but he mentally chalked it up to curiosity. Arelis agreed that he should go—Opakwa was under strict orders not to use his comlink except during an emergency, so they never really received any updates—for she was just as curious as he was about the situation of their prisoner.

He got in his speeder on one particularly dark night and drove around Aldera for several minutes, soon confirming what he had suspected would be the truth: he had a tail.

Well, that was easily fixed. Fortunately, his speeder was covered and had tinted windows and tall seat-backs. Anyone driving behind him would never know he was missing unless they actually saw him exiting the vehicle. And he would make sure _that_ didn't happen.

****

A few minutes later, he was hiding in a bush, watching as his landspeeder drove away without him. A couple of years ago, he'd installed a basic autopilot on the vehicle, completely ignoring the fact that it had never been designed to work with one. He was still good at tinkering, and he'd been able to make it work without too much trouble. The person following him would be none the wiser.

Slipping out of the speeder and into the bush had been rather easy, and, since he was wearing a black uniform, his moving form had been hard to see. The autopilot was programmed to drive the speeder around for several hours before finally returning home so as not to arouse suspicion. But he probably wouldn't be gone that long before sneaking back into his craft—that would be a little trickier, but he could probably find a way to distract his tail so that he could slip inside the moving speeder.

It was easy to get to Crevasse City on Alderaan's public transports. However, it was a little more difficult to get to the cave where Vader was held—since he didn't have a speeder, he had to do a lot of climbing.

He was in fairly good shape, though, and he wasn't sweating _too_ badly when he finally walked into the cave. Opakwa was at low power, hooked up to the portable power unit they'd brought for him, but he looked up at Luke's approach and exclaimed, "Master!"

"Hey there, spare parts," Luke said casually, hoping the Basic for Opakwa's Jawaese name would be enough of a reminder that they should keep personally identifiable information down to a minimum.

He allowed himself to look at Darth Vader at last. The man was lying on the ground, still heavily bound around his limbs, his chest, his midsection, and even his neck with the use of strong cables and special stakes which could be retracted with the flip of a switch. A piece of heavy cloth wrapped around his helmet completed the picture, having been put in place so that he couldn't see his surroundings.

"How the mighty have fallen," the young man couldn't help but comment, his amusement leaking into his voice.

"What do you want with me?" the Sith Lord asked, sounding rather angry. Had Vader not been tied down, Luke would certainly have been dead.

Ignoring the Imperial leader's question, the young man queried, "I trust my droid has been treating you well?" Opakwa was supposed to give the Sith Lord nourishment periodically through a nutrient feed and tend to his other needs as necessary, and truthfully Luke had no doubt that Opakwa was treating Vader better than the Sith deserved.

"It is obvious you are ill equipped to deal with prisoners."

"And it's obvious that you are completely without people skills," the young man returned, feeling his annoyance sparked. "Now, let's stop stating the obvious, shall we?" He studied his captive briefly. "We won't be able to keep you like this forever. You will need to move around eventually. Unfortunately, there's not a safer place to put you right now, and in here we can't trust you walking around on your own."

"Where am I?" the Sith Lord asked.

"Trade secret," Luke replied easily.

"What do you want with me?" the prisoner tried again.

"The problem is, I can't kill you—but I also can't let you go. So, I'm afraid you're stuck here for a while. And that's about all you can know."

Vader tried another blunt question. "Are you Luke Antilles?"

"Perhaps," the young man said vaguely. "Perhaps not. It doesn't matter."

"You know about the ysalamiri."

"Necessary for catching and keeping a Sith Lord, I'm afraid. You don't like them, do you? They make you a weak mortal, just like the rest of us."

The Force user was getting angry again. "Release me, you worthless—"

"_Don't_ call me worthless," Luke hissed, his eyes flashing. "I said I couldn't _kill_ you. I never said I would have any qualms about damaging your dignity by removing your mechanical limbs. I have an affinity for machines and could probably even do it without harming them."

The Sith Lord asked resignedly, "What do you gain by keeping me here?"

"Your being here means there's one less Force user ruling the galaxy. It means there's just a little bit more hope for good to prevail."

"So, you are a _Rebel_."

"No," Luke said, shaking his head though Vader couldn't see it. "I am not affiliated with the Rebels, which is not to say that I'm not sympathetic to their cause."

"What _is_ your cause? _Democracy_?" The term was spoken with disdain.

Luke didn't rise to the bait. He said calmly, "My cause is giving the galaxy back to the people. You Force users have taken control of it for far too long."

"The strong are the ones who should be in power and decide what is best for the weak."

"You need to know what it feels like to be weak to know what the weak need," the young man returned. "Even if the weak don't know what's best, they'll at least try to stop all the tragedies the Empire has been promoting. Unprovoked massacres, discrimination against women and aliens, rampant political assassinations, _slavery_—" He paused at the last word before saying, "The Empire has been bloodying its hands for far too long." He shook his head and sighed. "But of course, I shouldn't expect a monster like you to understand."

"To me, you are the monster," Vader said quietly.

Opakwa, protective of Luke as always, started to protest, "Mast—"

But Luke cut the droid off by holding up his hand. "I still have my humanity, something you left behind years ago when you started killing innocents."

****

Luke didn't have as much trouble getting into his speeder as he thought he would, as he managed to catch it slowly taking a corner. Once he was inside the vehicle, he took it off autopilot and went straight home. He didn't know why, but his conversation with the Sith Lord had aggravated him. He had talked more than he should have. But there was little he could do about it now.

Still, his frustration meant he wasn't very aware of his surroundings when he walked down the dark hallway and into his bedroom...Which meant that when a pair of arms went around his neck and a vibroblade glistened by his throat, he froze instead of reacting.

"Don't scream," a female voice whispered into his ear, "or I'll cut your throat."

But it was dark, and she didn't see his hand slip into his uniform pocket. Softly but with a slight triumphant smirk, he told her, "My right hand is grasping a thermal detonator; kill me, and we'll both die."

He felt the woman stiffen behind him; she obviously hadn't expected to find him this competent. But still, she didn't move the vibroblade away from the front of his throat. "We're obviously at a stalemate, then."

"Obviously," he acknowledged. "What do you want?"

"Where is Darth Vader?" she breathed into his ear. "He's not in the building."

"Haven't you seen the news? His ship crashed, and he was either taken prisoner by someone or escaped—"

"Don't lie to me," she hissed, her grip on him tightening. "I know you know where he is."

"I'm a politician," he scoffed. "Why would I be involved in his disappearance?"

"I've tied up your mother," she informed him, a threatening edge to her voice.

"I can't give you information I don't have," Luke insisted, though there was a note of fear in his voice that he couldn't hide.

"I don't know how you subdued Darth Vader," she snarled, "but I plan to find out. I'll leave your mother alive here for the servants to find, but _you_ are coming with me. You are under arrest in the name of the Emperor...We'll see how well you stand up to the Empire's best interrogators on Coruscant."

As the mysterious woman—who was calling his thermal detonator bluff, knowing that he had no desire to blow himself up—dragged him away from his home, he reflected that she could not have been the person following his speeder—this woman was good, and if she had been following him, he would never have noticed.

****

She blindfolded him and strapped him to a chair in her ship. He tried shifting slightly and found that his bindings were not ones he would be able to free himself from.

The woman apparently noticed his movement and said, "No matter how hard you try, you won't be able to get out. I learned from the best."

"Hmm. Apparently so," he acknowledged gruffly, shifting just a little bit to test his restraints one more time, knowing even as he did so that it was in vain. "You know _my_ name—what's yours?"

There was a pause before she answered, "Arica."

He smirked. "Fine. Don't tell me."

"You can call me Arica," she said, an edge in her voice.

"Fine. I will. _Arica_."

They were quiet as she got clearance to leave from Alderaanian Space Traffic Control. A few minutes later, Luke felt the shudder that meant the ship had jumped into hyperspace.

"So, is this what you normally do—capture and escort prisoners who may or may not have valuable information?"

"Is this what you normally do—talk your enemies' ears off?" Arica returned.

"I wouldn't know. Can't say I've ever really had enemies before."

"Apart from Vader."

"You're fishing."

"Hm," she said noncommittally.

"Do you really think anyone would be stupid enough to kidnap Darth Vader?" he asked skeptically.

"Perhaps you're desperate."

"You're fishing again."

She sounded annoyed. "I don't know _why_ anyone would think it was a good idea to kidnap Darth Vader, but I _do_ know he would not simply drop off the face of the galaxy without reporting first to the Emperor. Something's happened to him."

"How do you know he's not dead?"

The woman was quiet for a minute before answering, "The Emperor would sense his death."

"Ah, yes," Luke said bitterly, "the ever-vaunted Force powers."

"I studied your dossier—I know how much you hate Force users. What I don't understand is why you didn't just kill Vader after you captured him."

"_If_ I captured him," the young man reminded her.

"Whatever," she said crossly.

"If you read my dossier, then you know that the last thing I would want is to bring Imperials to Alderaan. They kind of put a damper on a person's campaign. And kidnapping Vader would have been sure to do that...And what makes you so certain I did it, anyway? How would I have even known Vader was coming to Alderaan?"

"Perhaps you have really good intelligence," Arica suggested. "Or maybe your whole anti-Force campaign was just a ploy."

Luke snorted. "A ploy to kidnap—but not kill—a Sith Lord, and then...what? Hold him for ransom, only to be killed once he's safe and sound? But wait—my mother is a member of the House of Antilles, and money's never been a problem. So—kidnap a Sith Lord and replace him? But wait—that would require Force powers...Oh, I know! Kidnap a Sith Lord and...play hide and seek with him? I hear they're great at that game because they can fool you into thinking they're not where they are."

"You mock me," the woman growled.

"I'm not mocking you. I'm merely pointing out something important—I lack motive. If I were smart enough to trap a Sith Lord, then surely I would be smart enough to know that this would happen."

"Maybe you were hoping that hiding in plain sight would help you."

"Or maybe I wasn't trying to hide anything at all and was just going about my daily routine."

"You're insufferable, Antilles."

"Well, then it's convenient you're passing me off to someone else, now, isn't it?"

"What about the thermal detonator?" Arica asked abruptly.

"Hmm?" Luke said, puzzled.

"You had a thermal detonator—you must have known someone was coming for you."

"I'm a politician whose main message will tick off those in power," the young captive noted dryly, "surely you don't think I haven't faced a few assassins before."

She was quiet for several seconds, and he suspected she was studying him. "Well, I'm still trying to figure you out, Antilles. I guess that's not my job, though. Pretty soon I'll be handing you off to the Emperor, and you'll be praying you were still with me."

"Perhaps," Luke said softly. He sat there for a few moments, considering. "How do you even know Vader is still on-planet? Aldera has a fair amount of traffic—it would have been easy for someone to take him and run. Wouldn't _that_ have been the smart move, anyway?"

"For someone who's not involved, you seem awfully intrigued," Arica commented.

Luke's jaw tightened slightly. She was right. He was talking too much. Perhaps it was because he didn't want to admit to himself that he was nervous. He had known that interrogation was a very real possibility, and he'd even studied up on techniques to increase stamina specifically for that purpose...And, of course, when he was a slave on Tatooine—

He shook his head slightly, banishing those memories.

"What do they do to prisoners who don't know anything?" Luke asked, mainly to fill the silence. For some odd reason, he found himself admiring this woman. If she'd chosen a different side, she would've been a powerful ally...

"I guess it depends on whether Vader's found or not. But I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you." There was the sound of a small shift of fabric, as if she were twisting to look at him. "You've made too many people angry to last long."

Luke gave a slight nod. She was right.

In preparation for this moment—which he'd known would come—he had considered placing a poison capsule in his mouth—one bite, and he could've killed himself almost instantly. But then the Empire would simply return for his mother, and he couldn't have that. Time was what he was striving for, and a quick suicide would bring little of that.

For that's what he and his mother were truly aiming for—a period of time in which Palpatine put most of his resources into a search for his right-hand man. They had a plan. Perhaps it wasn't a very good one, but they had both felt it was necessary. They had both seen it as their duty. He only hoped it worked.

****

**Author's Note:**** Feedback welcome, as always.**


	7. Senator: Truth

**PART 2: WOULD-BE SENATOR**

**CHAPTER 7: Truth**

"_You really don't like politicians, do you?" _—_Padmé Amidala to Anakin Skywalker, __Attack of the Clones_

****

Arica kept Luke blindfolded when they reached Coruscant. Several Stormtroopers came to escort them from what he suspected was—due to the lack of activity—a private hangar. His hands were kept in binders behind his back, and his female captor pulled on and pushed the binders to indicate what direction he needed to be walking in. He stumbled into a Stormtrooper a few times, much to his mild amusement and Arica's great annoyance, but for the most part the system worked well enough.

They finally reached their destination after going on a few lifts, and Arica pulled him to a stop.

"Leave us," said a voice Luke thought he recognized as belonging to the Emperor.

There was the sound of some movement, and then the Stormtroopers were gone. Luke knew Arica was still present due to the continuing pressure on his cuffs, and he took strange comfort in that.

"I see you have met my loyal servant Mara Jade," the probably-Emperor said darkly.

_Ah, so that's her name,_ he thought. _A strong name for a strong woman._ He snorted to himself.

"Remove his blindfold."

"Yes, my master," Arica—no, Mara Jade—said, undoing the fabric obstructing Luke's vision.

The first thing Luke noticed was Emperor Palpatine's face. _He really _is _as ugly as his holos,_ Luke reflected. He'd seen the dictator from afar before, but it had only been holos that let him have a close-up look. The emperor was clad in a black robe and standing in front of an elevated sable throne. They were in the tyrant's throne room, then—somehow, it seemed a bit smaller than Luke had imagined it would be.

At Palpatine's gesture, Mara walked toward him, and Luke was able to see her for the first time. She had a lithe body, as was to be expected, but what was shocking was her mane of red-gold hair. It reminded him a little of the red-haired Delana, though she'd lacked the streaks of gold, and he felt a pang of sadness.

_She's breath-taking,_ Luke thought before giving himself a mental kick. This was the _enemy_ he was calling beautiful. Blast. There he went again.

"It is rare that I reveal my Hand to anyone," Palpatine commented. "But I must say you have me intrigued, Luke Antilles." He took a few steps forward, his piercing eyes looking into Luke's soul. "You were courageous enough to speak against me and my loyal servant Darth Vader, all the while knowing that it was foolish to do so. I know that you are an intelligent boy. I have even seen recordings of some of your speeches—you are very skilled at manipulating people." He was moving closer, and Luke found himself wanting to step backward, though he held his ground with gritted teeth, not wanting to show any sign of fear. "But I wonder why you would go so far as to hold Darth Vader hostage." Now standing right in front of Luke, he took the boy's chin in his hand with forceful and spindly fingers and made the reluctant youth meet his eyes. "My Hand tells me she suspects that you did it despite your protests to the contrary, though she does not know why. And I intend to find out the truth." He gave a sickly smile. "And I am willing to use the Force to do it, Force-Hater. And if you do not crack, then I am sure that your mother will."

Luke's anger flared, and he wrenched his chin free of the dictator's cold grip. "You will leave my mother alone," he said coldly, trying desperately to keep his composure. Even as he spoke the words, he knew they were foolish—he was simply letting Palpatine know the power behind threats to Arelis Antilles—but he was furious, and he wanted to wipe that smirk off the tyrant's face.

The Emperor gave him a strange look, as if he were considering something for the first time. After a few seconds, he spoke again in a goading tone. "Oh, I will do with your mother as I wish, young Antilles. If I so desire, I will place her in a pit of piranha beetles and make you watch as they eat her alive."

"Monster!" Luke couldn't help but yell, lines of fury etched into his face. Were it not for his binders, he would be trying to strangle the Emperor; as it was, he was trying to keep himself from body-slamming the man, knowing that Jade would just knock him to the floor before he even got close.

Oddly, Palpatine backed up—no, it looked like he _slid_—several feet, as if somehow made to do so by the mere force of Luke's yell. Mara Jade was suddenly at the young man's side, grabbing his hair and forcing him to his knees while digging a blaster into his temple so hard he let out an involuntary grunt.

Strangely, the Emperor began cackling. "He does not know...He does...not...know." Dark amusement was pouring off him.

"Know _what_?" Luke gritted, fighting the urge to attempt to get out of Mara Jade's iron-grip. He was a good fighter, but he knew she was better than him, especially when he was bound as he was. Mara must have sensed his body tense, for she wriggled the blaster against his temple in warning.

"Why, you are that which you hate, Antilles," the Sith Lord answered mirthfully.

"What do you mean?" the young man queried, tired of playing this game.

"Why...you...are a Force user," Palpatine explained with dark glee.

Luke thought he felt his heart stop. He shook his head once, twice, glaring up at the tyrant. "No..._No!_ You're a liar!" He struggled against Mara Jade's hold, only to have the blaster barrel dig painfully deeper into his skull.

"I'm afraid not. Mara Jade is also a Force user, and if she reaches out, she can also confirm what I now know to be true, if you will not trust me. You...are a Force sensitive, and you just pushed me backward with the Dark Side." The sinister being smiled, his yellow-orange eyes almost glowing beneath his hood. "If I break you, then perhaps I won't need Lord Vader back."

Luke tried to stand up, wanting to wipe that smug look off the Sith Lord's face, but Mara Jade forced him to remain on his knees.

"I'll never join you, you _monster_," the young man spat. "You're a murderer, a despotic tyrant, and a _liar_."

"I am not lying," Emperor Palpatine said calmly. "Search your feelings, _boy_. You'll find what I'm saying is true."

And then, somehow, the Sith was in his mind. He didn't know how he knew it or what exactly it meant, but somehow he _did_ know, and in fury he _pushed_.

The Emperor physically moved backward a few more steps. "Your hatred makes you powerful, boy," he said approvingly. "You have not even been trained to use the Force, and already you are able to touch it. You are strong in the Force and will make a great Sith Lord."

"I will not be a Force user," Luke gritted. "I am not a Force sensitive." But the words were weak ones; he knew in his heart that Palpatine was right. Somehow, Luke _could_ touch the Force. It was a cruel trick of Fate.

"It is too late to claim yourself Force-free, child. The Dark Side is already starting to fill you. You are _meant_ to serve me."

"I would rather die," Luke proclaimed, spitting at the Emperor.

Palpatine's face filled with fury as he slowly wiped the spittle off. "We shall see. But first, perhaps, we should find out where Darth Vader is." He turned his eyes to his female servant. "Take him to the private interrogation room."

Mara roughly pulled Luke to his feet, and he moved forward in a zombie-like fashion. He felt as if his entire galaxy were being turned upside down.

****

He was taken to a room filled with all manner of gruesome instruments and droids. It looked like something out of a horror flick, but he knew it was real.

A quiet balding man in a gray outfit was waiting for them and bowed slightly when they entered.

"Setsner can't talk," Mara explained quietly to Luke. "To prove his loyalty to the Emperor, he cut off his own tongue."

Swallowing, Luke made a nod indicating that he'd heard her words. He wanted to ask why an interrogator who couldn't talk would be useful to the Emperor, but he decided he probably didn't want to know.

As Mara stood behind Luke and held him still, the older man came over with a vibroblade and cut off Luke's shirt. Luke winced as he watched the expensive Alderaanian material fall to the ground, now worthless. Even more depressing was the fact that he was losing the handkerchief he'd made from Delana's dancer outfit. He had kept the rest of the material at home, so it wasn't a complete loss, but he'd grown really attached to the small piece of fabric he always kept with him.

Mara whistled in surprise as she looked at him. "Kreth, Antilles, for an Alderaanian noble, you've got a lot of scars." She doubted it was from his time on Alderaan. From his dossier, she knew there was a period of several years before he'd been adopted by the dowager; perhaps he hadn't had as gentle of an upbringing as Mara had thought.

Luke stiffened but did not comment.

And then his pants, too, were cut off, and his shoes removed, so that all he was wearing was his underwear. Demeaning, yes. But there were worst fates.

The two Imperials moved him forward and put metal restraints around him. He knew there was no sense in trying to escape, so he did not even try. Instead, he concentrated on keeping his face blank. He didn't want to reveal anything.

"While we're waiting for the Emperor," Mara said, "I'm going to ask you a few control questions. Setsner is skilled at reading lies in humans. What's your name?"

"Luke Antilles," the young man said in monotone. He didn't have to try to make this easy.

"How old are you?"

"18 Standard Years of age."

"What color are your eyes?"

"Blue."

"Where were you born?"

There was a brief pause before Luke said, "Alderaan."

Mara looked at Setsner, who made a signal. "You're lying," she said.

"I—" he hesitated. "I don't know."

The interrogator made a different signal.

"Not a lie, but perhaps not the full truth," Mara interpreted with a frown. "Where did you spend the first part of your childhood?"

"It's none of your business," the young man said stiffly.

"If you stowed Vader there, then sure as kriff it's my business," the Emperor's Hand growled. "_Where_ did you spend the first part of your childhood?"

Palpatine entered as she finished her sentence. Sensing the tension in the room, he queried, "What is the problem, Jade?"

"He won't say where he lived before Alderaan, Master," Mara answered quietly.

"Child, you're going to be asked questions much more difficult than that one," the Emperor said to Luke. "Now, where did you live before Alderaan?"

"Haodis," the young man said.

Knowing Luke was giving in too easily, Palpatine further questioned, "And before that?"

The boy didn't answer, but the Sith Lord caught an image from him of a desert with two hot suns. "Ah, Tatooine," he said, his voice a strange mixture of triumph and surprise.

Luke clenched his eyes shut, cursing himself. The _Force_—Palpatine could use the Force. He had to keep his mind blank. He should think of space—black and starry. Light and dark...Full of nothing, yet full of everything...

"So, it seems you were not always a resident of Alderaan...I wonder—what was your name before Arelis Antilles took you in?"

Luke tried to keep thinking of space, not wanting to give this monster any more of his self.

"Could it have been..." the Emperor said in the voice of one who was contemplating the mysteries of the universe, "Skywalker?"

The young man was unable to conceal his surprise—he hadn't heard that name in years, and he certainly hadn't expected to hear it here. A shutter came down over his face, but of course by then it was too late. He felt as if now by knowing his true name the Emperor had taken away a part of him. And perhaps he had. Certainly, the inhuman monster seemed to think he had, for he began cackling.

"How delightful," pronounced the Sith Lord. "The son of Skywalker has fallen right into my lap. Now, if I could just find the father," he mused.

"My father's _dead_," Luke snarled.

The Emperor smiled at him mysteriously. "Oh, no, I can assure you, he's not." He looked at Setsner. "Let me know when he is finally willing to tell us the location of Darth Vader."

And with that, Emperor Palpatine and his Hand left the room.


	8. Senator: Death

**PART 2: WOULD-BE SENATOR**

**CHAPTER 8: Death**

"_It is you and your abilities the Emperor wants. That is why your friends are made to suffer."_ —_Obi-Wan Kenobi, __The Empire Strikes Back_

****

Several days later, Luke wondered if maybe his name had always been Pain.

Pain had become his constant companion, if he had not indeed been replaced by it, and, during his lucid moments, he wondered if he had already been subjected to most of the known forms of torture.

He was constantly dizzy, his tongue was swollen due to dehydration, his throat was raw from screaming, and his stomach was constantly crying out for nourishment. He had been deprived of sleep with the use of chemical injectors, and he had been subjected to loud noises and bright lights and needles and electro-shocks and fire-knives. And that wasn't even the half of it.

His pressure points had been jabbed at time and time again, his head had been shaved, and his back had been given fresh whip wounds and had even been branded with the Imperial symbol. The flesh on his shins had been scorched with a low-power blaster, his arms had been sliced at with a primitive knife, he'd been kicked and punched several times, he'd had muscle spasms which sent pain soaring through his already hurt-wracked body courtesy of some special machine, and he'd been injected with a liquid that made his blood feel like it was boiling...

And now Setsner was slowly cutting off his right hand with a knife.

Oh, he'd crushed the bones first, starting with the fingers. He'd peeled the individual fingers back slowly, testing their limits, before finally snapping them backwards. He'd done what he could with physical strength before bringing out a hard object that he began smashing the limb with, until finally Luke's hand was nothing but slivers of bone and blood and bits of flesh.

Luke thought the interrogator had gotten permission to perform the dismemberment, but perhaps that conversation was just in his head, having been caused by the Bavo Six or one of the other liquids he'd been injected with. It was hard to tell anymore.

While researching common torturing methods, he'd read about Bavo Six. It was a truth serum that caused the distortion of shapes, the induction of fear, and the infliction of intense paranoia. He tried to tell himself that the monstrous outline in front of him was just a mute Imperial man, but his brain was getting different signals, and he flinched away every time the monster—no, the _man_—came near.

Sometimes, his aunt came and talked to him. "It's all right, Luke, just ignore the pain," she would tell him. "Use the Force to make it go away."

"I don't like the Force," he'd respond in his rasping voice.

And then, before she could talk to him again, she would die, killed by a pair of greedy bounty hunters who then came and laughed in his face.

His uncle came to visit a few times, too. "Be careful with that moisture vaporator, Luke," he'd say.

"But I'm good with machines," Luke would tell him.

"I know that." His uncle would smile and reach over to tousle his hair, only to stop when he realized there was no hair to tousle. "You don't look very good, Luke. Are you sick?"

But then, he would be killed by the bounty hunters, too. And they would come again and laugh at the young man. He wanted to punch the laughter out of them, but it hurt enough to breathe, much less move.

Maybe Luke _did_ use the Force to resist the pain, like his aunt had suggested. He wasn't really sure. Mostly, he thought his hatred for Palpatine was what kept him going. He wouldn't let that monster win. He couldn't. That was what he kept telling himself.

After cutting off what remained of Luke's hand, the interrogator placed it on Luke's chest. Luke looked down at it coldly, like it were some distant object he had no use for. Funny, he'd never noticed that little scar on his thumb...

"Are you finally ready to tell us where Darth Vader is?" a voice asked.

Luke's head had started swimming, and his vision was blackening, so he couldn't see who the voice belonged to, though he thought maybe it was Palpatine's. "I don't know where he is," he managed, though he was barely able to make the words louder than a whisper. "But I hope he's dead." He paused and then added, "And I hope you die, too." A small, painful smile stretched across his face. What a pleasant thought that was.

Setsner slapped him, though the Emperor—yes, Luke was sure it was him—seemed amused. "I'm sure you do. But perhaps I know someone who can refresh your memory as to Lord Vader's location."

There was some noise, and then a familiar voice said, "_Luke_!"

"Mother," Luke rasped. He felt both relief and horror fill him—she was alive, but surely it was not for long. Why was she here? Why was _he_ here? His head was so cloudy...

"Luke," Arelis repeated. She sounded like she was crying. "I can't believe what they've done to you. My poor boy."

"It's all right, Mother." He wanted to say, _We knew this would happen,_ but he didn't. The haze in his head was starting to clear a little, and he was pulling his thoughts together with great effort.

"Luke, I can't let them do this to you..."

"We don't _know_ anything, Mother, so we can't tell them anything." He said the words calmly, but his heart was thumping in his chest. He'd been hit by a rare period of clarity, and he was remembering what they were fighting for.

He knew Palpatine was standing by, quietly watching this private moment between mother and son. He hated that monster. He wanted to tear the wrinkles off his face and gouge out his eyes with the fingers on his remaining hand—

"Luke," Arelis Antilles said softly, "they told me about you...and—and the Force. Is it true?"

He wanted to close his eyes and go back to that place where he could be hidden from the pain, hidden from the present, hidden from the past, hidden from himself...But he didn't. Instead, he clung to the clarity he'd been provided with, knowing he couldn't simply leave his mother alone with these monsters, and whispered, though it hurt to admit it out loud, "Yes. I didn't know before, but now—now, I do." How she must hate him now. His eyes burned, but no moisture came out.

"I had a daughter who was trained as a Jedi," she said quietly, "till she was killed by the Sith. I hated the Jedi for taking her away from me, and I hated the Sith for killing her. But I never hated her—and I don't hate you, Luke. Know that. I love you, just as I still love that baby the Jedi took from me. I think I understand now why the Jedi took away Force sensitive children—they didn't want them to end up in the hands of the Sith...Like you have now. Oh, _Luke_...This changes everything..."

He wanted to tell her that he was still the same—that nothing had changed—not _really_—but it hurt too much to talk. All he could manage was the whisper: "Mother..."

"They don't plan on killing you, or they would have done it by now," Arelis Antilles said. She had a firmly contemplative note in her voice that Luke didn't like. "But they will keep torturing you until they have Vader's location."

"Mother," he pleaded desperately. The _plan_—she must _stick with_ the _plan_! Though the slightest move sent pain streaking through his body, he tried to struggle against his restraints. He was filled with horror and despair—_no! No!_

"But you won't last forever without going mad, Luke."

"It doesn't matter, Mother," he croaked out, ignoring the physical hurt the words caused. "_We_ don't matter, Mother. Remember—"

"I refuse to let the Sith kill another child of mine...Not when I might be able to stop it."

"But Alderaan—" he protested, trying to get her to remember the _plan_.

"I love my home more than almost anything, Luke. But I don't love it more than you... I know I should do the smart thing, like we planned...But I can't. I'm sorry."

"Mother, _no_!" he managed to shout, the words ripping into his throat like daggers. He began bucking against his restraints, ignoring the pain that tore into his body. "_Mother_!" he yelled, his voice high and loud and piercing, like the cry of a dying animal. "_No!_"

"I'm sorry, Luke," Arelis said, her voice trembling as she turned away from him. To Palpatine, she said, "I know where Darth Vader is."

"_Mother_!" Luke screamed. But he knew it was already too late, and he welcomed the darkness that came to claim him.

****

Later, Luke lay down on the cot in his cell, numb to the outside world. There was food and water in his cell, but he would not eat or drink. There were new clothes laid out for him to put on, but he would not wear them. There was intense pain shooting through his body, but he would not feel it. He wouldn't let himself experience anything but tingling numbness.

His mother was dead.

Oh, he did not know if she were dead at this very moment, but he knew she was as good as dead. She would show them where Darth Vader was—they would keep her with them in case she was lying—and then, when they had found him, they would bring her back and give her a public execution, sentencing her with high treason and blowing her head off on the holovision.

They might offer him a holo of the event as a token of what he had lost, but he would refuse to watch it, for he would know that as she died, something else had died, too.

Yes, she was doing it out of love for him. He knew that. He had always known she loved him, and he had always loved her, but ever since those days at Jabba's Palace, he had viewed himself unworthy of love. Worthless, just like Darsst had always told him.

That had been part of the reason he'd been so willing to go with their plan. Not a good plan, but all they'd had. His life was worthless, so he was willing to give it up. He hadn't counted on his mother's not seeing him the same way. He hadn't counted on her love for him.

If he had really allowed himself to see how much she loved him, he would have fashioned the plan without her, so that he could save both her and others. If only he hadn't told her where he'd put Vader—

But what was done was done. And now she was to be killed. She was the walking dead. She was forever lost to him, sacrificing herself so that he might have a brief peace.

Perhaps their plan was doomed to failure from the start. But after Arelis had told him what she'd learned about the Death Star—she had eyes and ears everywhere—they had known they would need to do something about it. They could not let the pair of Force users simply go about demolishing planets. They both knew that Bail Organa was a high-ranking figure in the Alliance to Restore the Republic; he didn't know they knew, of course, but they were certain of his importance to the ragtag group of insurgents. With a little anonymous help from Arelis and Luke, the Rebellion was able to procure a copy of the Death Star technical readouts earlier than they might otherwise have done. There had been an unexpected problem, however. Many of the important figures in the Rebellion were loath to launch an assault on the behemoth space station, even though they knew of its location. They feared too much that the Rebel's already small forces would simply be decimated.

But Arelis and Luke had known that the space station would need to be taken out soon, before it could destroy any planets—it would be the Rebellion's first true step toward attaining peace. And so, they had devised Luke's political bid. By stirring up Alderaanians, Luke would call the Empire's attention to Alderaan, and Bail Organa would start to worry for his planet's safety. If Bail were suitably motivated, they knew he could spur the Rebels into action—he was, after all, a very skilled orator. But they had been provided a hoped-for safeguard to ensure that the Empire wouldn't simply destroy Alderaan—they had kidnapped Darth Vader.

Only, now, that safeguard was gone. Now, once Vader was removed from the planet, the Empire could destroy Alderaan.

Luke looked emotionlessly at the stump on his right arm. Before he'd left for Alderaan, Palpatine had told him that in a few hours a medic would come to give him a mechanical replacement hand and tend to his wounds. It was a reward, the Emperor had said, for telling him the location of Vader, though of course Luke had done no such thing. But the comment had stung, just like Palpatine had known it would.

He didn't care if he got the replacement hand or not; it didn't matter whether he lived or died now. His mother would soon be dead, and Alderaan would soon be destroyed. If he were lucky, the Death Star would also be obliterated regardless of how things had went for him and his mother, but there was nothing more he could do on that front.

As he breathed in and out deeply, he could feel that the cot beneath him was soaked in his blood. He didn't know what he looked like, but he could imagine he didn't even look like a shade of his former self. Bald, bloody, bruised, and branded—he was just one of the Emperor's toys now.

He wished for that poison capsule more than ever. He hadn't even been given any eating utensils. There would be no way to kill himself.

All he could do now was wait...But for what—he didn't know.

****

Arelis Antilles guided Emperor Palpatine and his entourage down to the depths of Crevasse City. The journey was made mostly in silence, and all too soon they were stepping out of their transport and navigating the beautiful caves beneath Crevasse City. Before long, they were in the room where Opakwa—who would probably soon be no more than scrap metal—was watching over the restrained Darth Vader. "Oh!" the droid said when he saw them, though he didn't say anything else, perhaps realizing that it was best to stay quiet, or perhaps knowing that there was really nothing to say.

"Darth Vader," Palpatine said, stepping forward. Half of his guards—and that mysterious woman with the red hair—still flanked Arelis. "You are safe, I presume?"

"Yes, my master," the black-armored man answered, sounding meeker than normal. He _was_ safe. It was only his pride that was hurt.

****

Arelis stared down at Darth Vader, hearing with detachment the conversation between him and his master. She was still trying desperately to erase the note of betrayal still ringing in her ears. Her head was still filled with her son's face and his voice as he cried out for her not to deviate from their plan.

She knew she was dooming Alderaan; she knew it with her heart and her soul. But she just couldn't stand seeing her son treated like that. A mother was not meant to kill her son—but to save him.

And so she'd traded an entire planet full of people for her son's sanity. The Sith would try to twist him, she knew, and would probably succeed. But at least she would die knowing that she had done what she thought was best for her son...Even if it meant the rest of the galaxy had to suffer.

She didn't know how she had ever thought she would be able to choose the galaxy over her son—she cared for the galaxy, yes, but she _loved_ her son.

Perhaps doom was all that was left to her—she certainly wouldn't survive long. She knew that. But she was determined to at least attempt to ease what her son would soon go through—and maybe the galaxy would be helped a little as well.

Arelis was quick for an older woman, and she and her son hadn't been utter fools when they'd set up Vader's 'cell.' At her feet, hidden beneath a rock, was a blaster. And as, on Palpatine's signal, a few of the guards standing near her moved forward to help release Vader from his restraints, she dropped to the floor, grabbed the blaster, and shot Palpatine in the head.

In that moment, a multitude of feelings passed through her head. But mostly what she saw in her mind's eye was an image of her son's suffering face. Truly, she was not doing this for the galaxy. Her sacrifice was to be made out of love for her son.

****

Blaster bolts from a dozen weapons hit the woman almost instantaneously, and she was dead shortly after Palpatine's body crumpled to the ground. But her one last act of love had accomplished what it had been intended to, and the galaxy was suddenly without an Emperor.

"_No_," a young woman with red-gold hair whispered, rushing forward to her dead master's side. She knelt beside him and grabbed a piece of his cloak, which she clenched in her hand so tightly her fingers turned white. A bolt from her own blaster had been the first to hit Arelis Antilles, but despite its speed it had been too late.

She cursed the presence of the ysalamiri. In normal circumstances, a blaster bolt would have had no effect on Palpatine. But that was because of his Force powers, and in the cave full of ysalamiri there were no Force powers to be had...Which meant that her master was dead—gone forever. She had failed him.

After the Emperor's sober and now-frightened guards released Vader from his bonds and removed his blindfold, the Sith Lord got to his feet. Due to the mechanical nature of his legs, he felt no stiffness in walking around.

He gazed briefly at his surroundings—in all his time in this cavern, he hadn't been able to look around, and he was surprised to discover he'd been held in such a pleasant place—before he finally gazed down at Palpatine's body. A few seconds later, he addressed the grieving Emperor's Hand. "Come, Jade. He is dead." Vader turned his helmet to address the guardsmen. "Destroy the lizards. Then bring Palpatine's body and the droid," he commanded.

The guards quickly set to work, glad that they weren't going to be immediately killed for their failure to protect the Emperor, though they feared they would be dead soon enough.

After the ysalamiri were dead, Vader faced Mara Jade and said firmly, "Jade, you lead the way."

The young woman's face was blank; she was numb inside like she'd never been before. Her life was falling apart around her. But it hadn't been the Emperor's right hand man who had killed the Emperor, as she had feared would happen all these years. Instead, it had been a desperate woman. Mara had been foolish not to watch her more closely, but she'd known her not to be armed, and the Emperor's Royal Guards were well-trained—surely, _they_ were at fault—not _her_. Still—she felt like she should have known—should have been more careful.

Now that the Emperor was gone, she could leave the Empire, forsake it...But there was nothing for her outside the Empire; within the Empire, as long as Vader was living, she would still hold a kind of power. She was reluctant, but she knew the best thing for her to do was to shift her loyalties from the Emperor to Vader. _He_ was the Empire's future now, and, without the Empire, she really had nothing...

They left Arelis Antilles' body behind. They would announce her dead as a traitor, but they would leave her body behind for cave creatures to eat. They would not give her the honor of a burial.

They did not realize how precious the event they had just witnessed truly was.


	9. Prisoner: Revelation

**PART 3: PRISONER**

**CHAPTER 9: Revelation**

"_Wait a minute—how'd this happen? We're smarter than this!" –Obi-Wan Kenobi on his and Anakin Skywalker's imprisonment, __Revenge of the Sith_

****

Darth Vader, Mara Jade, and the Imperial guards left Alderaan on the deceased ruler's shuttle. They were briefly quiet in memory of the deceased dictator, but Lord Vader was not one for sentimentality, and soon he had Mara Jade informing him of what had happened in his absence. She began with major galactic events, but he seemed more interested in something else.

"The would-be politician—Luke Antilles—was he captured?" the Sith Lord queried.

"He was, my Lord," Mara confirmed. "He displayed an amazing resistance to interrogation techniques. It was his mother you saw in the cave—the one who..." She trailed off uncomfortably, the incident that had occurred in that cave hitting her hard once again. She soon composed herself, however, and began to talk again. "Well, when we brought her to see him, she was forthcoming with your location. It seems she couldn't handle the...haggard appearance of her son. The Emper—we...discovered that, for all his anti-Force user talk, Antilles was actually Force sensitive. We were also able to determine that he spent some time on Haodis and that before that he lived on Tatooine for a few years. The name he held before being adopted by Arelis Antilles was Luke Skywalker, which the Emperor thought was significant."

After the utterance of her last sentence, Mara Jade could sense the shock rolling off the Sith Lord before he made an endeavor to hide it. Apparently, the name was just as significant to Vader as it had been to Palpatine. It meant nothing to her, and she found herself wondering what was so special about a name.

"Skywalker? Are you sure?" Darth Vader asked her darkly.

"Relatively sure, my Lord." He hadn't assumed the title of Emperor yet, so she wasn't calling him 'Your Excellency.' Still, under the circumstances, she felt ill at ease calling him by the lesser honorific, but he was accustomed to it and wasn't correcting her.

"And he is still alive?" the Sith Lord prodded.

Mara nodded. "Yes, my lord. He should have received a mechanical hand by now, and a physician should be seeing to his wounds."

Vader looked at her sharply. "Did he have all of his limbs removed?"

"No, my Lord. Just his right hand was cut off."

The Sith Lord's thoughts turned inward, and he did not say much else for the rest of the shuttle trip.

It was just as well. Mara was still trying to get over the death of an invincible man at the hands of an inconsequential woman.

****

When the door to his cell opened, Luke didn't look up. He suspected it was just the medic again. He wasn't responding very well to some of the medical droid's treatments, it seemed. And his refusal to undergo a bacta dip was frustrating the droid. It wasn't that he wanted to irritate the robot—for an Imperial machine, it was actually quite kind. It was just—he'd lost the will to live. There was nothing more for him. He wouldn't be able to escape, and there was nothing he could do to help Alderaan.

When a deep voice spoke his name, he looked up in surprise.

Darth Vader was standing a few feet in front of the doorway. So, Palpatine or Mara Jade had told the black behemoth his real name. The last thing he'd had for himself was truly gone.

"So, it is true," the Sith Lord stated thoughtfully. "You _are_ Anakin Skywalker's son." He looked at him for a second before adding dryly, "And you are in terrible shape."

And the boy was. He was nearly naked, his head was shaven, his face was _un_shaven, he was missing a few teeth, and he was covered in bruises and burns and half-healed wounds. The only part of him that looked normal was his right hand. Ironically, that was the only part of him which truly wasn't.

"My father is dead," Luke said quietly in a rasping voice, lowering his head and taking his eyes off Vader. "And I assume that now my mother is, too." Within him, he could feel his hatred for this man simmering. If he could go back in time and kill this man, he would. He regretted ever deciding not to.

"Perhaps not everything has proceeded the way you think it has," Vader told him. "Your mother is dead, yes, but she was killed for murdering the Emperor."

The young man's head shot up. "What?" His mouth gaped open in surprise. His mind was racing.

"Yes, the Emperor is dead." The Sith Lord didn't exactly sound displeased. "The use of ysalamiri seems to have been particularly helpful for you and your mother."

Luke allowed the ghost of a smile to briefly touch his lips, realizing what exactly had happened. If the Emperor was dead, that meant everything he and his mother had done had not been for nothing. It was the Emperor who was known for a fondness of technological terrors, not Vader. Perhaps Alderaan still had a small chance. Even if Vader were interested in the Death Star, surely he would be kept busy for a while with people who were scrabbling for power...

"But you are wrong about one thing," Vader noted. "Your father is not dead."

The young man shook his head adamantly, though it hurt to make even the slightest movement. "My uncle told me—"

"Your uncle?" the Sith Lord queried.

"Owen Lars," Luke said softly, his throat aching with the words. Vader already knew his name and probably where he was from—it would be easy to go from there and find out who he'd lived with on the desert planet...And what was the point in holding back information now? "He was...killed. So was my aunt."

"What happened to you after that?"

The boy hesitated, not sure how much more of himself he wanted to give to this monster. But he went ahead and answered the question honestly. "I was enslaved by Jabba the Hutt."

Though Luke didn't see it, Vader's fists were clenched at his sides. "And you say it was your aunt and uncle who told you your father was killed?"

Luke nodded. "He was a navigator on a spice freighter."

"No, he wasn't, Luke. Your father was first a Jedi and then became a Sith."

"No, that's not true," Luke whispered. He could feel this conversation was going into dark territory, and he wanted to stop it, but he couldn't. Though he found himself fearing the words Vader was about to speak, he also felt a morbid curiosity toward them as well.

"Your father was called Anakin Skywalker until he began to follow the ways of the Sith. And then he was transformed—"

Luke felt his pulse quicken; he felt as if he couldn't breathe.

"—and he became Darth Vader."

The young man closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. "No..." He might have cried if he'd had any tears left, but he didn't.

"Search your feelings, Son," the Sith Lord said with a strange gentleness. "What do they tell you?"

"Leave me alone," the boy said in a low voice. When Vader didn't move, Luke looked up and shouted, "_Leave me alone_!" The words scratched his sore throat like the claws of a krayt dragon, but he didn't care. He wanted the hated dark man gone.

The Sith Lord nodded and left quietly, leaving Luke to his thoughts. But the damage was done, and somehow Luke knew Darth Vader had spoken the truth.

****

The death of the Emperor and the traitor status of one Arelis Antilles from Alderaan were announced at a press conference, and a great memorial was held for the Emperor on Coruscant. Vader was too busy to see his son—what with the memorial arrangements and the vultures who wanted to ascend to Palpatine's throne, it was hard to even find a few minutes for much-needed meditation. The title of Emperor was rightfully his, and he would make certain it remained so. He did, however, instruct a human medic to force his son to take a bacta dip. He knew it must hurt for the boy to even wear clothing, and Luke was likely facing calcification of the skeleton from all the electro-shocks he'd been given. He made sure to send Mara Jade in to talk to the boy, however. He didn't think it was good for him to be only in the company of medics.

The first time Mara went in to Luke's cell, she found him sitting quietly on his cot. He had finally put on a pair of black pants, and many of his wounds were mostly healed, though he would have some massive scars. Some food and water sat in front of him; both were almost untouched.

"Skywalker?" she ventured, trying not to stare at his bare chest. She wasn't quite sure what had gotten into her.

"Antilles," he returned quietly. He felt like the name Skywalker had become poison, and he wanted nothing to do with it.

Mara ignored his correction; Vader referred to the man as Skywalker, so that was what she was going to call him.

"Vader plans for you to be moved to a better cell soon. We're having something fixed up for you right now. It will be further from the throne room but closer to Vader's quarters."

"What's going to happen to me?"

"I'm not sure," Mara said honestly. "I don't know what Vader wants with you, but he seems to want you to be well-treated." She suspected Vader wanted him as a Sith apprentice, but she didn't think it was her place to point that out.

"My mother's dead," Luke stated flatly. He didn't know why, but he felt like he had to say those words. It was as if he were trying both to convince himself that it was true and that it wasn't. He wanted it to be a lie. He needed for it to be a lie.

"I know," Mara replied, the statement making Vader's prisoner wince. The words 'I killed her' were hovering on Mara's lips, but she did not let them leave there. Instead of letting him know just how he was rendered an orphan, she took pity on him and said, "We've got your droid. I don't know what you did to him, but he seems to think some offworlders were holding Vader hostage rather than you and your mother."

The hint of a smile brushed the young man's mouth, and he said mysteriously, "Indeed."

The Imperial was quiet for a few seconds before speaking again. "Your mother killed the Emperor, Skywalker; she couldn't be allowed to live."

"She did what she thought was best," he said. He clenched his eyes shut and lay back against his bed. "Kriff, Jade, I miss her so much...But even if it would bring her back to life, I can't say that I would wish what she did undone."

Mara Jade's face flushed in anger. "She killed the _Emperor_, Skywalker. He was my master—he was—he was the _ruler of the galaxy_. Don't you understand? You can't just go around killing galactic leaders. That's called anarchy."

The young man sat back up. "We would still be in a republic were it not for your master," he responded calmly, though his blue eyes burned with a strange fire. "Besides, how can you support a monster who would build a planet-destroyer?"

The woman's eyes narrowed. "How do you know about the Death Star?"

"Even in a galaxy as big as this one, it's hard to hide a moon-sized space station," Luke said dryly. Though the Empire had put forth a valiant effort. Not that he would admit it.

"The point of the Death Star was fear, Skywalker. It was a tool meant for keeping people in line."

"And you don't think the Emperor was willing to use it?" the young man snorted. "Imagine how many innocent people would have died when he destroyed his first planet. And why would it stop there? Why not just destroy every planet with potential dissenters on it?"

"The Emperor would not have—"

"If you do not believe that possible," Luke cut in, "then you did not know your Emperor."

Mara glared at him. "You're insufferable. Did you know that, Skywalker?"

"I may be insufferable, but I seem to have been made for suffering," the boy muttered beneath his breath, more to himself than her. The fire in him was gone, leaving him only with fatigue.

She stared at him for a few moments, struck by the strange change in his mood. "Just be glad you survived those interrogation sessions with all of your sanity. Most people aren't nearly that lucky."

Luke watched her leave; for some reason, he was almost sad to see her go.


	10. Prisoner: Movement

**PART 3: PRISONER**

**CHAPTER 10: Movement**

"_Prisoner transfer from cell block 1138." _—_Luke Skywalker, __A New Hope_

****

When Vader began to hear disturbing reports of increased Rebel activity, he wanted to curse the Rebels' timing. He wanted to spend more time with his _son_, and those wretched insurgents just _had_ to pop up their insufferable heads once more. He would have to start making plans regarding what to do with them, but first he wanted one more chance to talk to Luke.

This time when he saw his son, the boy was looking a lot better. He was now fully clothed, and a thin layer of fuzz graced the top of his head. He also had a very thick layer of facial hair—which was decidedly not a good look for the boy. He made a mental note to request that his son be given a laser razor.

He'd had Mara Jade move the boy to nicer quarters. It didn't even resemble a cell any more (and in fact, wasn't _actually_ a cell like the hidden room near Palpatine's private throne room had been), though there'd been a lock placed on the door so Luke couldn't escape. Perhaps one day that would not be needed—he hoped so, at least—but for now it was. He couldn't have the boy wandering around in the Imperial Palace.

The boy's quarters possessed a kitchenette (devoid of sharp utensils, of course), a refresher, a bedroom, a dining area, and a living area. It was well furnished—there were plenty of lights and small tables, and there was even a holovision set with a limited number of channels. The quarters weren't up to the standards Luke had lived with at Arelis Antilles' house, but they were not exactly painful to look at. Several datacards (many of them on Sith teachings) had been placed in the room for Luke to read, and he was presently on the couch perusing one of them. There was a sober look on his face, as if he were considering the tragedies of the universe (and perhaps he was, the Sith Lord reflected). At Vader's entrance, the young man looked up and set his datapad aside.

Luke hesitated for several seconds before finally greeting: "Father." The word made his throat feel tight, and it tried to chip away at some of his black hatred for the man, but he fought against it. The Sith Lord was a monster, even if he _was_ Luke's flesh and blood...Even if there _could_ still be a shred of decency left in him.

"So, you have finally accepted the truth," Vader rumbled, the noise almost a purr.

"I have accepted the truth that you were once Anakin Skywalker, my father," the young man replied easily.

This time, Vader's voice was a definite growl. "That _name_ no longer has any meaning for me."

"I once thought the name Luke Skywalker no longer held any meaning for me. I was wrong, and perhaps you are, too."

"I fear your upbringing on Alderaan has made you overly optimistic."

Luke shrugged. "I like to think of myself as a realist. Realistically, there must be some part of Anakin Skywalker within you, or you would not have treated me as kindly as you have." He made an expansive gesture toward his surroundings. Mostly, he was trying to get under the Sith Lord's skin—but the words _did_ make sense, and he found himself frowning as he considered them.

"Perhaps I just desire a new apprentice," Vader suggested.

"Oh, I don't doubt that," the boy said quietly. "But you could've just kept me back in the cell I was in if you'd wanted that. There was no reason to move me to a place this nice; by the same token, if you'd wanted to impress me, you would have given me quarters far better than these."

"You do a lot of thinking for someone who comes from Tatooine," Vader observed darkly. The boy was as sharp as his mother had been. The unexpected thought brought a rush of sadness that the Sith Lord quickly buried.

"I lived on Alderaan for about half my life," the young man returned. "Alderaan is known for its thinkers."

"I trust Jade has been treating you well?" the Sith Lord queried, changing the subject.

"As well as her nature allows, I suppose. She seems to have been hit pretty hard by the Emperor's death." At the next words Luke spoke, he gave a small smile, though it didn't meet his eyes. "You, I've noticed, don't seem upset at all."

"Mara Jade was intimately connected to Palpatine," Vader said, ignoring his son's dig at him. "She could hear his voice in her mind from anywhere in the galaxy."

The young man nodded thoughtfully. "Was she well-trained in the Force?"

"Palpatine trained her enough to be useful but not enough that she would serve as a threat," Vader told him. "She is an interesting blend of Light and Dark—she is neither Sith nor Jedi nor Dark Jedi. She is merely a partially trained Force user."

"And now she serves you," Luke stated flatly.

"She is trying to determine where her loyalties will lie, but, yes, I suspect that they will soon lie with me. Certainly, she will never turn against me." Vader was certain of that.

"Are you having a lot of trouble with the people seeking Palpatine's throne?"

The boy was quick indeed. "There have been some problems," Vader admitted, "but nothing I have been unable to deal with. I trust they will accept my authority soon."

"Or be killed, I presume." Luke sighed. "Perhaps it's best I never did get the chance to really enter the political world."

Vader felt a glimmer of amusement. He knew how his son felt. "Oh, that joy might still be available to you. But unfortunately, I do not have much time to discuss that right now. I will leave Jade here to keep you company. You'll understand, of course, that until I learn where more people's loyalties lie, I cannot provide you with more amiable companionship. I will, however, have someone give your droid to you. Its information banks have been thoroughly studied, and I have no further use for it."

"Thank you," Luke said softly. He was genuinely glad to get the droid back, but it felt weird to feel a little indebted to his enemy.

"I will have the droid brought to you shortly," the Sith Lord noted. And then he was disappearing out the door with a whisk of his black cape, leaving his son alone.

Luke brought his eyes down to his datapad, feeling a bit confused. Had he just..._enjoyed_ that conversation?

The man wasn't a complete monster—he had to begrudgingly give him that. He certainly wasn't like Palpatine. Luke felt a chill pass down his spine. _That_ man had been a genuine beast. He had never known that evil could be personified so completely in one person.

But the contrast between Palpatine and Vader gave him a strange glimmer of hope—perhaps there _was_ still good in his father. Perhaps he could form a real relationship with the man.

He recalled how he'd had Vader unceremoniously tied to the floor of that cave and had felt darkly amused by it...One thing was for sure: Vader was certainly treating him a lot better than Luke had treated _him_. The young man flushed a little. He was glad the Sith Lord hadn't really brought up that particular incident. Luke and his mother hadn't thought that one through very well—their energy had been focused on _capturing_ the man. Actually holding and hiding him had been details they hadn't really considered, perhaps because they were still dubious as to whether they would actually be able to get their hands on him. Darth Vader was obviously better prepared on the 'holding' front. Of course, it was a lot easier for him since he was one of the galaxy's _rulers_, but that was beside the point.

He sighed, returning his attention to the datacard he was reading. It was about some of Alderaan's fauna. He'd always liked Alderaan's animals, but he had always been too busy to actually get a pet. Still, it was nice to read about them from time to time. Thoughtful of Vader, really, to put some cards with information on Alderaan in his room. He only prayed that Alderaan wouldn't be destroyed. It was all he really had left to hold on to, especially now that his mother—he shut that thought down. He wanted to mourn her, but he wasn't quite sure how. Could a person ever truly get over their grief at the death of a loved one? Or would that grief fade as memories faded?

Luke considered trying to call the Sith Lord back and plead for the continued survival of the beautiful world, that world his mother had loved so much. But he was sure Vader already knew his stance on the planet-destroying issue, and wasting the man's time wouldn't really help Luke's situation. So, all he could really do was sit back and hope that Vader had a bit of a heart.

Nothing like wanting the impossible, right?

****

There was a giant statue with a round white base near the middle of Aldera. Resting on the base was a beautifully crafted rendition of the native Alderaanian woolly moth. The moth was done in a realistic mix of pastel yellows, greens, and purples. Beneath the woolly moth were a magnificently colored marble cocoon and an armored caterpillar, the earlier forms of the woolly moth before its transformation into a flying creature. The statue stood proudly as a symbol of metamorphosis and beauty.

The artist who had made the statue had considered creating the ensemble out of plain marble, but then he had decided that color was an absolute necessity, and he'd crafted the Alderaanian insects out of the expensive but beautiful Merducian marble. While somewhat fragile compared to most marbles, Merducian marble had a special property: with the addition of certain temperatures of fire, the marble could be turned different colors. And so, the artist had been able to make the statue as lifelike as possible. In fact, were it not for the bigger-than-life size of the woolly moth, one might almost expect it to fly away from the round base and flit around in the sunlight.

It was at this statue that the Royal Houses of Alderaan housed a secret. By touching a certain part of the base of the statue in a particular pattern, a secret compartment could be revealed. When a prominent member of one of the Houses died, the most prominent member of all the Houses was to visit the compartment and remove the deceased's articles. The system worked on honor—it was honor that dictated that the spot would not be vandalized or revealed to the public and that any wills contained within were to be honestly revealed. So far, the system had never failed. Alderaan was full of noble people, and its nobles were just as ethically inclined as most of the planet's citizens.

The night of the announcement of Arelis Antilles' death, Bail Organa went to visit the secret compartment. He was known to take the occasional night-walk, so his presence outside would be seen as nothing unusual.

He walked idly around, touching and studying various statues near the middle of Aldera, and at last he came to the woolly moth statue. His fingers brushed the base with memorized assurance, and soon the secret compartment was opening. Bail looked in briefly before removing a hand-crafted wooden box with Arelis Antilles' name carved on it. He slipped the box into his clothes, closed the secret compartment, and returned home in a roundabout fashion, visiting a few other statues along the way.

It was a tragedy, he reflected as he walked, that there would not be a public memorial for Arelis Antilles. She'd been a kind woman, if a bit too shrewd for her own good. There would be a private ceremony, of course, but he knew there were many civilians who would be mourning her death despite her status as traitor to the Empire..._Some of which are probably mourning her death _because _of that status_, he thought with mild dark humor. Arelis had been the richest person on Alderaan, having made some offworld investments in her younger days that had paid off spectacularly, and she was known for her generosity, having donated a lot of money to several worthy causes.

When he was finally standing inside the front doors of his home, he warmly greeted one of the housekeepers and then went into his study and locked the doors. The room was regularly swept for spy devices, so he knew it was safe to open the box. After gently brushing his fingers across the name carved into the box, he lifted the lid. Inside, he found two datacards and a small box. Curious, he opened the box, noting with surprise that there was a ring with a beautiful and rare glowing fire opal on it.

He set the box aside and looked at the datacards. One of them, he noted with a smile, was labeled _An Old Lady's Last Will and Testament_, while the other was labeled _For_ _Bail Organa's Eyes Only_. Though the existence of the latter datacard intrigued him more (why had she left a datacard specifically for _him_?), Bail first put the card with her will on it into his reader, quickly perusing the datacard's contents.

Perhaps the most significant item on the datacard was the allocation of her many funds. If Luke were still alive, half of her money was to go to him. The other half was to go to Bail Organa; if Luke was dead, his half was also to be given to Bail.

The Alderaanian had to read his name five times before he was certain there had not been a mistake. Why was some of her money to go to him rather than her brother, Bail Antilles? Surely, she would have wanted the money—and thus the power—to stay within the House of Antilles. The man's brow furrowed. Perhaps just as puzzling as that was the fact that she had planned for what would happen if both she and Luke were dead—had they been tempting the Empire on purpose?

He read the rest of the card, noting that the ring had belonged to Arelis's mother and was to be given to Luke, and then set it aside. Perhaps the card that was meant for him would have more answers.

The information on the datacard was vaguely worded at parts, perhaps in case someone stumbled across it, but Bail believed he understood it all:

_Bail,_

_If you're reading this, I'm dead. That's sort of an odd statement to make, but there it is. The old bird has finally peeped her last. Don't laugh too hard at that, now._

_But—seriously—I want to apologize to you, Bail. We've never really been forthcoming with you. Perhaps we should have—or perhaps not. Just know that what we've done, we've done in hopes that it was the best thing for us to do. It's not been an issue of trust. I would have trusted you to the grave—that is, if, you know, I hadn't already been dead._

_I've updated this card several times since placing it beneath the big bug, trying to figure out what exactly I wanted to say to you. If you're reading this, something has probably gone awry, so I figure it can't hurt to reveal everything. Maybe things will turn out all right anyway; maybe not. But hopefully._

_We've known of your _position _a while, and we also helped ensure you got what you were_ planning _for. We did what we did to spur you and everyone else on, Bail. Perhaps we were endangering everyone, but by holding Vader hostage beneath Crevasse City (a map to the cave is included at the end of this message, just in case you need to know where to find him), we hoped we would be saving everyone while you encouraged people to do what they should already have done. I hope it's destroyed soon, Bail. That thing should never have been built._

_I've hidden some ysalamiri—perhaps I should have told you about them before—they're creatures from the planet Myrkr which can block the Force in a limited radius—on the other side of the planet specifically for your use, should you ever need them. A map for their location will be included at the end of this message as well._

_Stars, Bail, I hope Luke isn't dead when you're reading this. That's been a possibility—perhaps even an inevitability—in our plan all along, but I've never liked to think about it. If he's alive, Bail, and there's anything you can do for him, please, do it. That boy has suffered more than he ever should have. I've never told anyone this—and he would probably kill me for doing so, if I weren't already dead—but before I adopted him, he was a slave on Tatooine. He had been living with his aunt and uncle until that Hutt slimeball Jabba killed them and enslaved him. Luke never told me their names, but he did eventually tell me his name—Skywalker. Luke Skywalker. It has a sort of a nice ring, doesn't it? If anyone could walk the skies, it was him._

_If he _is _dead, and I know it's certainly possible, could you reveal his real name at his funeral? I think it was sort of special to him—a bit of the parents he never knew. But he never used it for fear that Jabba would send his goons after him; the Hutt never did like being made a fool of, that's for sure._

_He's a good boy, Bail. He never meant your daughter any harm. If it hadn't been for our scheming, I think they would have been good friends. Please tell Leia it was never personal. And, Bail, please help him—if you can. If it's not too late._

_After you memorize the maps (you're not too old to do that, are you?), destroy this card. I may still believe the House of Antilles should rightfully be the ruling house, but I don't want you to be taken down. Call me sentimental, if you will, but you're a tough old bat like me, and I like that. It'd be a pity for anything to happen to you because you left a card lying around for someone to find._

After reading the card, Bail felt moisture begin building up in his eyes. "Oh, Arelis," he whispered. The woman hadn't been foolish in her political meddling like he'd thought—she'd just been over-calculating. And she'd just revealed to him some very important but very disturbing news—the son of Skywalker was alive...and in Vader's clutches.

He knew in his gut that was what happened—if the boy had been killed, his death would have been announced as Arelis's had. Vader must have discovered their relationship or at least Luke's Force powers (for Obi-Wan had told him that both of Anakin's children had a high midi-chlorian count), and he was likely planning to convert the boy. Failing that, the Sith Lord would probably destroy him. Regardless of Vader's plans for Luke, Bail knew that time was suddenly very important.

Bail Organa had been wanting to leave Alderaan to help the Rebellion make plans concerning the Death Star, but he was remaining on-planet so as not to draw suspicion. He had—most fortunately—been able to use the example of Alderaan—which was growing increasingly dissatisfied with the Empire, what with Arelis Antilles's death and the message Luke had spread—to convince the Rebellion to take action against the Death Star, just as Arelis and Luke had intended for him to do. Whereas before he had found himself cursing them for their foolishness, now he found himself praising them for their ingenuity. He had been a pawn in their game, yes, but their game had led to the intended outcome. At least, it was possible—there was still a chance that Alderaan would be obliterated if the Death Star wasn't destroyed soon. Darth Vader would only be distracted by power struggles for so long.

The Alderaanian wondered what exactly had happened in regard to holding Vader hostage but suspected he would never know the full truth—Arelis and Luke had been hiding Vader in a place that was a virtual maze. It should have been a long time before Vader was actually discovered. Had one of the two cracked under interrogation techniques? Had Luke been broken by Palpatine already? If he had, the galaxy was in a lot of trouble, as that would mean there were once again two Sith at the Empire's helm. Still, perhaps the cave where Vader had been held would hold an answer for him. He resolved to go there immediately after taking care of a more pressing issue.

The problem was that he couldn't leave Alderaan to go to Coruscant and attempt a rescue mission. What with Arelis's assassination of the Emperor, Alderaan's prominent members were being rather carefully watched. Such was why he made sure to make a public appearance every day, showing that he had not left the planet. Fortunately, he knew someone who _could_ help (for a hefty _sum_, of course)—his daughter's not-so-secret secret boyfriend—that smuggler who had been making several dangerous runs for the Alliance and had even (unfortunately) transported his daughter a few times. The man and his Wookiee copilot couldn't do it alone, however, but that was where someone else he knew could come in.


	11. Prisoner: Advancement

**PART 3: PRISONER**

**CHAPTER 11: Advancement**

"_People should not be imprisoned without having the ability to change the legality of that imprisonment." —Jeff Bingaman_

****

When Mara entered his quarters with Opakwa in tow, Luke got to his feet with a smile. "Opakwa," he greeted.

"Master Luke!" the protocol droid returned, sounding rather overjoyed. "I was wondering whether I would ever see you again."

"Well, we're together again now," Luke said warmly. He noticed Mara Jade was giving him an odd look, and he frowned at her in puzzlement. "What?"

She furrowed her brow. "It's just—you seem to really care about your droid."

"So? We've been through a lot together."

"It's just..." Mara paused looking for the right word. "Unusual," she managed at last.

The young man shrugged. "Well, he helped save my skin several years back, and I like to look out for him in return."

She studied him for a moment. "I haven't quite got you figured out, Skywalker."

"Good." He grinned. "I would hate to make things too easy for you."

"I'm sure," the young woman said dryly. "Anyway, I must say that shave did you a lot of good. Facial hair does not become you."

"It was a bit unfortunate, really—I _had_ hair where I _didn't_ want it, but not where I _did_ want it."

"Oh, don't worry, that cliché Alderaanian hairdo will be back before you know it," she quipped.

"But not quick enough," he commented. "Still, it's not like I have anyone to impress, what with being an Imperial captive and all."

Mara raised an eyebrow. "What—so you're not so dazzled by my beauty that you want to impress me?" Then she gave a slight frown, wondering at herself. Was she _flirting_ with him?

"You strike me as the type of woman who would be more impressed by my resistance to Imperial interrogation than my appearance," Luke returned with a grin. "And speaking of Imperials—how long have you worked for the Empire? Your whole life?"

Mara shrugged. "I don't really remember my life before the Empire. All I remember is that my parents didn't really want me to go but that I knew I was going to leave with the Emperor. I don't even remember what they looked like."

"For what it's worth," Luke said softly, "I thought both of my parents were dead until recently."

The redhead frowned. "They weren't?"

"Well, my father wasn't," he said awkwardly. Apparently, Vader hadn't told her about—well...

"Have you gotten to see him much?"

"Not exactly," Luke answered carefully. "He's been sort of, uh, busy."

Mara had the feeling there was something he wasn't telling her, but, really, it was none of her business. He was just a prisoner. And why should she care, anyway?

"Vader's going to be off-planet for a while," she informed him. "He has to deal with a few pests."

Luke was intrigued but didn't inquire further; he doubted Mara would tell him what exactly his father was doing, even if she knew. Instead, he remarked, "You know, you remind me a little of someone I knew."

Mara cocked an eyebrow. "Is that a pickup line, Skywalker?"

The young man flushed. "No...It's just—she had red hair like yours, and she was a dancer. You move a lot like her."

Mara Jade froze. Did he know that one of her personas in court was that of a dancer? "Really?" she heard herself saying distantly.

"Yes. I don't know what happened to her, though. I fear—" he hesitated. "I fear Jabba may have killed her."

"Jabba the Hutt?" she queried.

"Yeah," Luke said, feeling as if maybe he'd given away a little too much.

"I wouldn't put it past the big slug," she commented, thankful that he couldn't have been referring to her. "He usually doesn't keep the same people for long before finding something wrong with them. Does he still have that rancor of his?"

Luke swallowed, remembering the times he'd had to clean up that big monster's messes. "I don't know. I hope not." He still had the occasional nightmare where the bits of flesh he'd gathered in the rancor pit came together to form mushy monsters with cold, damp hands and sagging eyeballs. Even thinking about it now in the light made him shiver.

"Those are my sentiments, exactly," Opakwa piped up. He'd been quiet up to now, but he couldn't help but second Luke's comment about the rancor. Save for its caretaker Malakili, the only one who had truly loved the rancor in Jabba's Palace was Jabba. After all, even droids had occasionally been thrown down to the beast, which got particularly angry when it found out they weren't real flesh and started mashing them against the wall.

"So the droid knew Jabba, too?" Mara asked, intrigued.

Luke gave her a wry smile. "You might say that I...'lifted' him off Jabba's small, pudgy hands."

The young woman chuckled; it was a pleasant sound Luke liked hearing. "Well, you're braver than a lot of men I've known, that's for sure."

"Not brave, just desperate," he said cryptically.

"What's the difference, really?"

"Not much, perhaps." He studied her for a minute before asking, "Have you ever wondered what your life would have been like if you hadn't been brought into Palpatine's service?"

Mara shrugged dismissively. "There's no point in wondering, Skywalker. I am what I am. There is no Mara Jade without the Empire."

"But there could be," he pointed out. "You could just leave the Empire and never come back."

"And do what?" she scoffed. "Be a waitress? Join the Rebels? Throw tea-parties? Leaving the Empire isn't realistic, Skywalker. And if you're smart, you'll realize that resisting the Empire isn't realistic either."

But Luke was starting to get worked up. "How can you support a cause that can so easily create weapons like the Death Star? The ability to destroy a planet—that's more power than one person should ever be given."

"There's no such thing as too much power."

"Yes, there is, Mara," he said. She flinched as he spoke her first name—she wasn't sure why. "Everyone needs to be held accountable for their actions. That's why an Empire is such a bad idea—"

"Squabbling politicians are a bad idea, Skywalker. Giving the reins of leadership to someone who's qualified isn't."

"But who is to say who is qualified? What's to keep a person who has a planet-destroyer from obliterating the entire galaxy?"

Mara shook her head, annoyed. "They would never—"

"How do you _know_?" he interrupted, searching her eyes with his own. "How do you know they wouldn't? How do you know the side you support is right when you don't even know about the side you don't support? I told my—I told Vader—and I'll tell you: the Empire has been the major cause of a lot of tragedies. You're a woman—you should know how little power women are given in the Empire. The same goes for aliens. And what about the rampant slavery and all of the genocides? Mara—"

"You may call me Jade, Skywalker," the redhead said stiffly, "and you can spew all your treasonous talk to your droid. I'm sure he won't mind listening."

She turned her back on him, and he exhaled in frustration.

But the seeds of doubt _had_ been sown, and as Mara Jade left, she cursed Luke Skywalker's name and wondered if maybe he was just the smallest bit right.

****

Bail Organa had sent Han Solo and Chewbacca on a mission to rescue Luke Skywalker, which was all he could do on that front. He'd pointed the pair in the direction of the ysalamiri Arelis had hidden (which the smuggler was under explicit directions to pick up before leaving planet) and had given him a message to impart on his first stop. He only hoped all of that was enough.

Later that day, Bail went to stay with some friends in Crevasse City. It was a front, though he _had_ enjoyed talking with them, and that night he snuck out and went down to the cave where Vader had been held hostage. That was where he found Arelis's body. Or what was left of it, anyway, after the cave's denizens had found it.

He took off his cloak, thankful he had worn it, and wrapped Arelis's remains up in it, trying not to gag as he did so. Several cages in the cave chamber held the charred bodies of some kind of dead animal—ysalamiri, he suspected. He began to put the pieces together—Arelis must have led Palpatine here. With the aid of the ysalamiri, she had been able to kill the Sith Lord, though she had of course died herself in the process. She really _had_ been a tough old bird.

He put all the cave's contents in his transport. There was no need to leave things behind and sully the cave's brilliance. Save for some blaster scorch marks, the cave would be left as if it had never been found. Nature could have its beautiful room back. It would probably never be used again by human hands.

****

As Han Solo set his ship down on the swampy planet of Dagobah, he made a face. "I sure hope she doesn't get sucked down into the muck, Chewie," he said. "That would end our rescue mission real quick."

The Wookiee roared back something, and Han grinned. "All right, all right. You don't have to come out in the swamp with me. I'll take care of it. Wouldn't think of getting your fur all wet, after all." He chuckled and then looked down at his scopes. "We're getting a lot of life-form readings, but it doesn't look like there's any real civilization on this slimy mudhole. I just hope Bail Organa knew what he was doing when he sent us here." The smuggler touched a few controls, studying the information on the screen. "I also hope these coordinates are right, or we're gonna be searching for a while—the place isn't exactly dripping with unique landmarks. I'll have my comlink on me, and I'll check in every half-hour. If I miss a check-in, feel free to send a search party out after me."

Chewie growled in amusement, reaching out to tousle his friend's hair.

"Hey! Chewie!" Han protested, perturbed. "Lay off, will ya?" He brushed away the Wookiee's hand. "Now, it's time for me to go find a pair of hopefully-living Jedi Masters. Easy, right?"

Fortunately, he didn't have to worry as much as he'd thought. When he let down the ramp, he noticed two beings standing in front of it and looking up at him, and he had to stifle his blaster-grabbing reflex. One was an older, white-haired human, and the other was a green runt of an alien. Both had on the robes Bail Organa had told him to be looking for. They weren't a threat. At least, he _hoped_ they weren't. They might not be too glad to have their hideaway found out by a pair of smugglers.

Han leaned against the entryway. "I guess you're my welcoming committee, eh?" He nodded down at them. "I'm Han Solo, captain of the _Millennium Falcon_. Bail Organa sent me with a message and a request. You must be Jedi Masters Yoda and Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"You seem incredibly well-informed for a smuggler," Obi-Wan said with a smile and a small nod.

"And possess Force-blockers, you do," the alien noted. He had a very keen gaze, and it made Han nervous.

The smuggler nodded. "Yeah. Furred lizards called ysalamiri. Maybe you've heard of them?"

"Why did Bail Organa send you here?" the human asked him with genuine curiosity.

"He said you've been a bit out of touch with the galaxy and I should inform you of what's been going on. So, here's what I know of it. The Emperor was killed by this Alderaanian bigwig named Arelis Antilles. Naturally, she died as well."

"We felt the Emperor's death through the Force," Obi-Wan commented.

Though he was a bit annoyed that they already knew some of his news, Han continued. "Yeah, well, Arelis Antilles' adopted son, Luke Antilles, was running for senator on Alderaan, stirring up people against Force-users and making my g—making Bail Organa's daughter Leia—rather ticked off. To make a long story short, this Luke Antilles disappeared, and Bail thinks he was captured by Vader. I think the kid's probably been executed for conspiring against the state, but Bail doesn't seem to think so. Says his death woulda been announced. So, he sent me with some ysalamiri to pick up you two and attempt a rescue mission. Suicide mission's more like it...But he's paying well, and this won't be the first time Chewie and I have participated in a jailbreak, so I'm on board."

"In the habit of releasing prisoners, we are not," Yoda told him firmly.

The smuggler inclined his head. "He told me you might say that. He also told me to tell you that Antilles isn't this guy's real last name—it's Skywalker."

The two Jedi Masters exchanged a surprised glance, both of them looking as if they'd just heard some of the most surprising news of the millennium.

_So, they've heard of that name_, Han thought to himself. _Wonder what's so special about it?_

"Certain of this, are you?" the alien queried, pointing his cane at the smuggler.

Han shrugged. "I'm just telling you what _I_ was told. If you don't want to come, I'll go on regardless. It'll be a bit rougher, but I'm sure Chewie and I can handle it."

"If you'll give us a minute to discuss this," Obi-Wan requested smoothly.

"Sure." Han pointed his thumb behind him. "I'll just be in my ship. Come on in when your decision's made."

They nodded, and he went back inside the _Falcon_ to ask Chewie if he was up for a quick game of dejarik.

****

"Could this be true?" Obi-Wan asked Yoda. He felt as if his head were spinning. Skywalker's son—_alive_?!

"Indicate deceit, the Force does not. And from Bail Organa, this man _did_ come," the small Jedi Master pointed out.

Obi-Wan was frowning thoughtfully. "When we felt something was wrong on Tatooine and I left Dagobah and followed the trail to Jabba's Palace, I did not sense Luke. I assumed he was dead...Could it have been some of these—these furred lizards that this Han Solo has in his possession?"

Yoda tilted his head and nodded. "Seems likely, it does. If alive, Luke Skywalker is, then know now Vader must of his son's existence."

"Which means we need to get to Luke as soon as possible," Obi-Wan reflected. "I assume Bail has still not talked to Leia about her parentage—it appears our focus must shift from the girl to the boy. There is no need to endanger Leia if we do not have to. Perhaps there's still a chance to save Luke."

"Your point, I do take." Yoda was quiet for a few seconds in contemplation. "Stay here, I will. If to you and the boy something does happen, then still need to be trained, the girl will."

"Then it's settled." Obi-Wan gave a slight determined nod and then walked away to retrieve a few items from the hut he and Yoda lived in. After returning with a bag in hand, he nodded once more at Yoda and then began to move toward the ship.

"Take care, old friend," Yoda called after him. "And may the Force be with you, always."

"Thank you." The human Jedi turned and smiled. "And may the Force be with you."


	12. Prisoner: Rescuers

**PART 3: PRISONER**

**CHAPTER 12: Rescuers**

"_They're gonna execute her! Look, a few minutes ago you said you didn't want to just wait here to be captured. Now all you want to do is _stay_?" —Luke Skywalker to Han Solo, on Leia Organa's imprisonment, __A New Hope_

****

Luke was sitting on his dark blue couch and reading some documents about the Sith with a critical eye when Mara entered his quarters. She stood in the doorway, looking stiff, as if she were still upset by their last conversation. "Is everything finding you well?" she asked, her mouth a thin line.

Ah. Checking up on him like a dutiful little servant. She was nothing if not committed.

"The reading material's a bit biased," Luke said with a smile, holding up his datapad for emphasis, "I've had better food in Alderaan's cheapest café, and my pillow's a bit lumpy...Other than that, everything's fine."

She gave him a sour look. "This isn't the Tapani Imperial Hotel, you know. You _are_ technically a prisoner, even if you _do_ get a kitchen."

"And _you_ are technically a non-entity," Luke returned, "for who but the Empire's most elite even know that Emperor's Hands exist? It's necessary, of course, for you to be able to use your stealth skills to the fullest extent, but—"

"There is only one Hand," Mara told him in a low voice. "And if you reveal my position to anyone—"

"Relax," he said, trying to soothe her. He gave her a bright grin, glad he'd managed to get under her skin—baiting Mara Jade was the most fun he'd had in a while—even if it _was_ dangerous. "You can trust me."

She cocked her head and gave him a skeptical look. "I wouldn't even trust you as far as I could throw you."

Luke smirked at the thought of her picking him up and flinging him across the room. Chuckling lightly, he told her, "I would gain nothing by telling people about your position. You forget—I'm not an Imperial, so I have no reason to share secrets _with_ Imperials."

"It's not just Imperials that would benefit from information about the Empire," Mara noted darkly.

"Knowledge of your existence wouldn't help the Rebellion in the least, I'm sure." He gave her a curious look, his eyebrows curved inward. "Isn't there _anyone_ you can trust?"

She hesitated. "I could trust the Em—Palpatine. And I—I can trust Lord Vader."

"Soon to be Emperor Vader," Luke muttered under his breath.

"And I suppose _you_ know a lot of people you can trust?" Mara shot back.

The young man seemed saddened by the question. "It depends on how you define trust. Trust with my life? Yes. Trust with all the plans I've made? No...But that was by choice."

"Plans?" she queried, trying not to sound _too_ interested.

"I couldn't exactly broadcast to the world that I was kidnapping Darth Vader," Luke said dryly. There was no use in denying it anymore, though.

"What's most impressive is that you were actually able to do it," Mara commented. Her statement _wasn't_ a lie—she really _was_ impressed that he'd been able to hold the Sith Lord hostage. He seemed to be a simple Alderaanian boy—but there was definitely more than met the eye.

"Yes, well, he wasn't expecting the ysalamiri," Luke said modestly. "I had an advantage that most people would not."

"Still, there isn't really anyone else who can boast of that," the young woman pointed out.

"I'm not sure boasting of that is exactly the smartest thing for me to do." He smiled, his eyes glinting. "Assuming I ever _do_ get out of here."

"Hmm," the redhead said noncommittally. She knew that if he _did_ leave the Imperial Palace, it would most likely be _as_ an Imperial. She doubted Vader would ever let him wander free on any condition other than that one.

Luke furrowed his brow, considering something. "I'm not quite sure what to think of—of Vader. He's a murderer, I know that, but he hasn't shown himself to be completely cruel."

"Most people in this galaxy _are_ murderers, of one kind or another," Mara said with a shrug. "The difference is the titles they give themselves."

"I don't believe that," he said firmly. "I don't think the act of killing is enough to label one a murderer. I think the circumstances must be considered."

Mara rolled her eyes. "Careful—your idealism's shining through."

"Is killing someone in the act of self-defense to be labeled murder? And what about war?"

"The ends versus means argument." The woman shook her head. "It's the ends, Skywalker, that matter most."

"I don't think it is," he told her honestly. "I think who we are and what we do to get the things we desire are both very important."

Mara snorted. "That sounds a lot like Jedi talk."

The comment made Luke smile. "I don't really know much about the Jedi," he admitted, "but I know it's certainly not Sith-talk." He held up his datapad for emphasis. "I've been reading up on the Sith. Not a very pleasant bunch."

"They've generally known what they wanted and gone for it."

"Perhaps." The young man shrugged. "I'm none too fond of their methods, though. Interrogation is not my cup of tea."

"And the _Rebels_ don't interrogate?" Mara sneered.

Luke frowned thoughtfully. "Since I've never been with the Rebels, I wouldn't actually know. I suspect, however, that their methods of interrogation are very different from Imperial methods."

The young woman couldn't exactly argue with that, though she wanted to just so she could snipe away at Skywalker's righteous attitude. There had never been any real indication that the Rebels treated any Imperial prisoners terribly, which was actually rather unfortunate for the Empire, as it meant there was far more side-switching than there should be. "Your anti-Force message indicated that you were aligned with the Rebels," she said instead.

"You don't have to be an insurgent to hate the Force," he pointed out. "I suppose that's really a moot point for me now."

"Seeing as you are a Force user who kidnapped a prominent governmental figure." She smirked. "Irony's really biting you on the butt with that one."

"Something like that, yes," he chuckled. For an Imperial assassin, Mara Jade wasn't exactly bad company. A bit cold, perhaps, but certainly not afraid of jesting. And with his life being turned upside down as it was, he could certainly do with a little bit of such jesting. For all he knew, he could be Vader's prisoner for the rest of his life...And what a sobering thought _that_ was.

On impulse, Luke looked at Mara and asked, "Will you eat dinner with me?"

She looked at him in surprise. Clearly, that was not what she was expecting him to say. "Eat dinner with you?" she echoed, incredulous. An Imperial prisoner was asking her to _eat_ with him? Had Tatooine frozen over?

Luke looked down at his hands. One was still healing from wounds inflicted on it, while the other looked as if its skin were utterly flawless. He knew that Palpatine must have relished in seeing him so helpless—the removal of his hand had been more of a signal of Palpatine's power than a truly effective interrogative technique. He'd had the feeling that even if he'd revealed Vader's location while the interrogator had been breaking his fingers, the removal of his hand would have still commenced. He swallowed and took in a deep breath. He didn't belong in the Imperial Palace. He knew that. He didn't even _really_ feel like he belonged on Coruscant. Perhaps, despite all the sophistication he'd gone through as the adopted son of Arelis of the House of Antilles, he was still that farmboy on Tatooine—scared, small, and truly alone, always seeking a peace with the galaxy that he could never have.

"It gets lonely sometimes," he said at last. It was true. On Alderaan, he'd always had his mother nearby to talk to. And she was always having people over for tea or taking him with her on outings with her friends. He had become accustomed to feeling alone in Jabba's Palace—he had only been allowed to see Delana and Opakwa sporadically, and he hadn't wanted to see many of the place's other denizens—but after having lived on Alderaan for so long, he found himself constantly longing for company. He felt as if he were perhaps meant to be a loner—that there was a part of him which pulled him toward that lifestyle—but he didn't _want_ to be a loner. He wanted to help people—not set himself apart from them.

But Mara—whom he suspected did not even realize there was anything _besides_ the life of a loner—did not seem to understand, and she asked, "What about your droid?"

Rather than tell her that it was not the same—that, while he cared deeply for the droid, it could not replace human companionship—he opted for half-hearted humor. "He can't exactly eat, now can he?"

Perhaps she sensed the heaviness of his thoughts or simply wanted to mirror his attempt at humor, for she replied with a suspicious but crafty look and asked, "Are you asking me out on a date?"

Luke couldn't help but chuckle, feeling his spirits lift a little. "I certainly _would_ be a fool if I asked one of my captors out on a date."

Yes, that _would_ be foolish of him—but, Mara noticed, he avoided the question. That alone was almost enough for her to completely refuse his invitation. After considering the invite for a few seconds, however, she reluctantly agreed to share some food with him. She didn't have any duties for a while, and, she argued with herself, she _did_ need to eat.

"Sit down at the table," Luke noted with a gesture. "I'll fix the food."

Rolling her eyes and letting him boost his fragile male ego by preparing dinner, Mara followed his directions, seating herself in one of the chairs in front of the small table. In the middle of the table was a blue and white decorative vase (an imitation of an Alderaanian artist's style, she noted, bemused), and she idly picked it up and rolled it back and forth in her hands.

There wasn't much available to Luke in his kitchenette—since it was difficult to cook without sharp objects, not much was provided for him. He did manage a simple cuisine of sandwiches and fruit, though, which he brought out after setting two plates and some napkins on the table. Then he returned to the kitchen, bringing out two glasses of water, one of which he put in front of Mara and the other of which he put at his own space at the table, which was right next to Mara's.

He sat down, and Mara turned her head and cocked an eyebrow at him. "This is _great_ fare, Skywalker."

He gave her an evil glare. "It's not exactly like I can make any bantha steaks, seeing as you would need _knives_ to eat it."

"What—you don't eat with your hands on Alderaan? Man, the rumors were wrong..."

He flung a piece of crust from his sandwich at her.

"Real mature, Skywalker," she snorted. She took a bite of her sandwich and nodded her approval. "Not bad. You could be a sandwich gourmet after all."

Luke rolled his eyes, resting them on the bowl of fruit he'd set on the table. A smile tugging at the sides of his mouth and impulsivity tugging at his heart, he stood up and grabbed three Muja fruits. "Now, you'll learn my _real_ talent," he said with a lopsided grin. He flung two of the fruits up in the air and started trying to juggle them.

Mara laughed out loud at his failed attempt at juggling, laughing even harder at the sad look that came upon his face when all three of the fruits fell onto the floor.

"Blast," he said softly as he bent over to pick the bruised fruit up.

"Come on, Skywalker, just admit that you weren't meant to work at a circus."

But he shook his head stubbornly. "Two revolutions," he told her, determination written all over his face as he stared down at the reddish-orange fruit in his hands. "I need to make two revolutions," he insisted as he threw two of the Muja fruits back up in the air.

Five minutes later, he'd still only managed to make one 'revolution,' and he was beginning to be very disheartened.

"Come off it, Skywalker," Mara said with something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. "Just eat your sandwich and leave that poor fruit alone."

With a dejected sigh, he plopped down in his seat, setting the fruits on the table only to accidentally knock them off a few seconds later. They rolled off the table and onto the floor with a _thud thud thud_.

Mara quickly grabbed the last Muja fruit in the bowl and set it on her plate. At a curious look from Luke, she explained, "I won't have you ruining another perfectly good piece of fruit."

He stuck his tongue out at her and took a bite of his sandwich. His face brightened. "Hey, you're right—this isn't half bad!" He looked pleased with himself.

The redhead rolled her eyes and finished off the last bit of her sandwich before biting into the Muja fruit. She nodded in quiet approval—it had been a while since she'd had such a simple meal, and she had to admit that it was nice.

She found herself staring at the contentedly-eating Luke and realized that she was actually enjoying herself. Then she wondered—was this what having friends was like?

The young man had soon downed his entire sandwich, and after taking a swig of water he looked at her. Embarrassed that he should catch her staring, she moved her green eyes to look at the vase, her cheeks turning pink.

Luke scooted to the edge of the side of his chair and leaned forward, placing his head beneath her chin and turning her head toward him. Their eyes met unsurely, and then he was lifting himself up off his chair so that he could press his lips against hers.

Mara found herself responding to the gentle touch of his lips with a hunger that was unrelated to food, and then she suddenly pulled away, pushing him backward and then—almost before he could blink—disappearing from his quarters.

Luke, who'd tumbled his chair over when pushed and smacked his head and back on the ground, lay staring upward at the ceiling for a while afterward. He rubbed his head, wincing at the knot he felt there, and gave a sad sigh. Well, that had gone badly.

He hadn't even _really_ intended it to be anything like a date—he'd just been missing human companionship, and the suggestion for Mara to eat with him had tumbled out of his mouth before he could really think about it. He'd thought it was platonic—he hadn't dreamed it could be otherwise...

Certainly, Mara was an attractive woman, but he'd never been the type to actively pursue women. He'd always been too busy. Now, of course, he had all the time in the galaxy...

With a grunt, he pushed himself into a seated position and then got to his feet. He pulled the chair up and pushed it up to the table, holding onto it for several seconds, his head feeling slightly woozy.

Maybe this was why he'd never pursued any girls—they just made things so blasted complicated.

_But _you _were the one who kissed _her_,_ a niggling little voice pointed out.

He brought his fingers up to touch his lips. Yes, he had, hadn't he? He found himself grinning.

Well, Mara Jade _was_ a remarkable woman. He had to give her that. Of course, she probably wouldn't ever _speak_ to him again. Which was a shame, as his lips were still burning from where they'd touched hers. He hadn't ever realized that a woman could make him feel like that...

He reluctantly tried to pull his thoughts away from her. His back and head were both aching from his fall, and he was quite fatigued. He'd found that healing—even with the aid of bacta—had taken a lot out of him. That, and discovering that his father was the biggest figure of evil in the galaxy.

He found _that_ particularly hard to think about, even after he'd had some time. His interrogation session he tried to put behind him as a thing of the past. It was relegated to the 'did-that-really-happen?'s along with the terrible things he'd experienced at Jabba's Palace—the only thing from that place that he could truly consider without pain or regret was his friendship with Opakwa.

But to find out that his father was Darth Vader—_that_ was something that was eternally in the present. _That_ was something he couldn't forget or shove aside. It was like a giant bantha in the room which he wanted to ignore but couldn't. He wanted to talk with Mara about it—really, to talk to _anyone_ about it—though Mara probably wasn't a good choice anyway, seeing as she was probably no longer on speaking terms with him—but he _couldn't_ talk to anyone about it. Even if he wanted to. No one could understand; no one could know what it felt like. He was alone...He was lonely.

And he missed his mother.

Stars, how he missed her. She'd wanted what was best for him, but she'd also wanted what was best for the galaxy. That the two had turned out to be mutually exclusive had been a vicious twist of fate. She'd died knowing he was furious at her. He only hoped she'd known that really he'd understood—that he probably would have done the same if he'd been in her situation—that it was just desperation that had wrenched that anger out of him.

Luke climbed into bed carefully, glad to get some rest.

He fell asleep easily, but he soon began to dream.

_He was at Jabba's Palace, dressed in black—a color which he rarely donned despite its good appearance on him—and sitting on Jabba's dais. Only, it wasn't Jabba's; it was his._

_Behind him, his father stood, dark and silent save for the constant noise of his respirator. In front of him, Delana was dancing, clad in a green dancer's outfit with bells attached to it; her red hair was unbound and tossed and turned with her movements. And then suddenly, it wasn't Delana anymore, though the hair was almost the same; it was Mara. "Dance harder," he told her, and on that cue the band Sand Surfing on Tatooine began to increase the tempo of their music. Mara began dancing faster, her undulations graceful, dangerous, exotic, but he found he wasn't pleased by her performance. He gave a cold laugh and pulled the switch to the rancor pit._

_She dropped down to the pit, staring upward as the rancor came toward her. But then it wasn't Mara any longer; it was Delana again. And she was yelling at him, cursing him for leaving her behind, for sentencing her to death._

_He wanted to speak to her, but no words came out of his mouth. The rancor reached down and ran its claws across her. It had a sick sort of grin on its face that he'd never seen before. It was torturing her, enjoying itself immensely, and she was screaming for him to save her._

_But he just stood and watched. His father said something to him, though he wasn't sure exactly what the words were, just that they were an expression of approval._

_His mother appeared out of nowhere and began walking toward him. She was pleading for him to help the dancer, but he pushed her into the pit without any hesitation. After she fell, she was still._

_He wanted to cry out, but he didn't. He just watched as the rancor devoured both of his mother figures. _

When he awoke from the dream, he found he was covered in a thin layer of cold sweat. He untangled himself from his sheets and shoved his face into his pillow. Finally, he allowed himself to cry.

****

Obi-Wan wasn't certain whether he should be glad or frustrated that Bail had supplied the smuggler with ysalamiri. On the one hand, the presence of the furred lizards meant that Vader wouldn't have a great advantage over them—and Vader's pride meant that he would want to face Obi-Wan alone if he knew the Jedi was still alive. On the other hand, Obi-Wan couldn't let the Force guide him—he didn't even know if Vader and the boy were even _on_ Coruscant. When they reached the city-planet, he would temporarily step out of the ysalamiri bubble, of course, but it was hard to know such a big event was approaching when he couldn't rely on any Force meditation to calm himself. He felt as if he were Qui-Gon's young apprentice all over again.

Except he wasn't young anymore. He and Yoda were both too old to pit themselves against the Chosen One, which was why they were putting their hopes in a boy they'd only recently discovered was still alive.

Han Solo didn't seem to know exactly why their rescue mission was so important, but even without the Force he'd seemed to have picked up on it. He was acting oddly sober, like he knew that what he was helping with would be galaxy-changing.

Obi-Wan just hoped they weren't too late.

****

Luke was doing some push-ups by the couch when he heard the door to his quarters open behind him. "Hello," he greeted tensely, expecting his visitor to be Mara.

"Uh, hi," an unfamiliar male voice said in response.

Startled, Luke dropped to his knees and spun around, remaining in a crouch and holding his hands up in battle-ready fists. Prepared to duck behind the couch if necessary, he asked warily, "Who are you?"

"I'm Han Solo, and I'm here to rescue you," the man who'd spoken said. He was wearing an Imperial uniform, which was innocuous enough, but he was also dragging the unconscious form of one of Luke's guards—which meant he was probably _not_ an actual Imperial. An older man came up behind him, also garbed in a uniform and dragging the arm of another unconscious guard. In his other hand, he was carrying a large and full-looking bag. "This is Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master extraordinaire. We've been sent by Bail Organa to rescue you. Now, if you'll hurry, kid, we're in a bit of a rush. My fake codes are bound to be discovered soon; that is, if someone doesn't notice the guards missing first."

The Jedi nodded at Luke in greeting; he seemed to be studying him, as if committing his every detail to memory.

The young man hesitated for just a couple of seconds before making his decision. Whether these two were telling the truth or not, he didn't exactly want to spend the rest of his life as an Imperial prisoner. Vader was not like the Emperor, but he was certainly not a good man. At least Han Solo—if that was really his name—had mentioned Bail Organa in a positive light. That leant a little credibility to his story.

"I'm bringing my droid," Luke said firmly, though he suspected they would try to argue the point.

He was right. "Leave the blasted machine here. It'll slow us down," Han Solo argued.

"He goes, or I stay," the prisoner said stubbornly.

"Where is he?" the other man growled in resignation, clearly annoyed.

"In the bedroom. I'll get him." Luke jogged into the bedroom and returned a few seconds later with Opakwa. "Ready."

The so-called Jedi pulled some clothes out of the bag, though the bag still seemed to be full. "Here, put these on."

Nodding, Luke took the clothes and did as he was told.

****

A few minutes later, they were calmly walking down the corridors of the Imperial Palace, Opakwa following them with the large bag in tow. They tried to look busy in conversation, so as to avert any curious eyes.

"How exactly did you get in here and break into my cell?" Luke asked in a low voice.

"Slicing skills, fake IDs and codes, and a lot of luck," Han Solo answered.

"And the aid of the Force," Obi-Wan Kenobi added.

Han snorted. "The whole point of that blasted lizard was to block the Force and stop people from sensing the old man's presence. He keeps ducking out of its radius, though."

Luke's eyes widened in realization. That must be what was in the bag Opakwa had been requested to carry—an ysalamir.

"I had to know whether Vader was present, and I had to find out Luke's precise location," Obi-Wan said calmly. He nodded to a group of Stormtroopers who passed by.

"Well, Vader's off-planet," Luke muttered informatively, "so good fortune seems to be on your side."

"My copilot Chewbacca's waiting near the Palace in a speeder. We hop in, head to my ship, and then we should be free to go. Chewie should have already gotten clearance to leave."

"This seems to be going a lot smoother than I would have thought," Luke said, nodding to a pair of officers. Fortunately, the long sleeves of his uniform hid most of his scars. Otherwise, they might have gotten a lot of unwanted attention. Still, the officers _did_ seem a bit too curious in regarding the bag held by Opakwa, though they didn't stare too long.

"Yeah, well, you're dealing with pros," Han Solo said smugly.

Luke felt like snorting, having the feeling that wasn't exactly the case, but he didn't want to upset his rescuers, so he just remained quiet.

"Let's just hope our escape remains smooth," Obi-Wan said.

"I heartily agree with that," Opakwa announced.

****

Mara entered Skywalker's quarters with a great sense of reluctance. Her conversations with him had been making her more and more uncomfortable, and she was angry with herself for how affected she'd been by that wretched _boy_. She needn't have worried about seeing him again, however. The two unconscious guards on the floor told her all she needed to know.

"Kreth, stang, _shavit_," she cursed, wishing she'd brushed up on her Huttese swearing the other day like she'd considered. Vader was _not_ going to be happy. She only hoped she could contact him—and, knowing where he had headed, that was not very likely.

Stooping down by one of the guards, she grabbed his comlink. The Palace would need to be put on alert. But she knew it was probably already too late.


	13. Pilot: Decisions

**PART 4: PILOT**

**CHAPTER 13: Decisions**

"_I'm not such a bad pilot, myself." —Luke Skywalker, __A New Hope_

****

The alarms started to blare just as they stepped outside the Imperial Palace. A Wookiee waiting in a speeder nearby growled at them to hurry, and Han made a slight 'after you' bow and gestured for them to pile in. As Luke and Opakwa did so, a trio of Stormtroopers ran outside to hinder the group's progress. Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber and sent a blaster bolt back to one of the Stormtroopers, while Han took out his blaster and quickly took care of the other two.

"We don't have time for this," the space pirate grunted as he jumped into the vehicle. Obi-Wan got in after him.

As they sped away from the site, Luke allowed himself a small sigh of relief. They'd been able to make it out of the Palace without too much trouble, though they'd had to bluff their way through a conversation with one curious man who said he hadn't seen them in the Palace before.

They hadn't achieved much distance between themselves and the Palace when a pair of blaster bolts zoomed past their heads. The Wookiee growled in frustration, starting evasive maneuvers, while Han turned around in his seat to send his own pair of blaster bolts at the Imperial speeder behind him. Both blasts missed, and he started a long string of Corellian profanities. Their pursuer managed to land one shot on their speeder, taking a gouge out if it and causing Han to curse even more. The smuggler's agile finger touched his blaster trigger several more times, and one of his shots hit the driver, who slumped in his seat. The driver's panicked companion crawled over him to push him aside and get at the controls, but Han managed to hit him in the shoulder. The Imperial speeder began a nosedive.

"Nice shooting," Luke couldn't help but note.

Han grinned and turned back around to face the front of the vehicle. "I've got a few tricks up my sleeve, kid."

Minutes later, they arrived at Han Solo's ship. It was a beat-up freighter called the _Millennium Falcon_ (though Luke personally thought it should be called the _Crippled Hawk_), and they all piled in without further ado. As it lifted off from the docking platform, they contacted the planetary authorities, only to find that the permission they'd received earlier was no longer valid. All ships were commanded to stay on-planet until an escaped prisoner was located, they were told.

Blatantly ignoring their orders, they continued ascending. Coruscant Space Traffic Control was not amused by this rebellious maneuver, and a man's voice boomed over the freighter's speakers. "Cease your movement, freighter, or you _will_ be treated as a hostile craft and shot down."

Han threw a sideways look at his Wookiee companion and then muttered something to the traffic controller about equipment malfunctions. Unsympathetic, the man repeated his warning. "Cease your movement or be fired upon, freighter. There are no exceptions."

"Hit it, Chewie," Han said as his fingers danced over the ship's controls. A moment later, the _Falcon_ was lurching forward with a boost of speed.

Several air traffic vehicles pursued the ship, firing off a volley of blasts, most of which the surprisingly agile Corellian freighter narrowly avoided.

"That rear deflector shield still up, Chewie?" the ship's pilot queried, getting a roar of affirmation in response. Both Han's and Chewie's hands were flying across the controls, and Luke, though impatient, held his tongue, knowing that even though they were almost out of Coruscant's atmosphere, they would still need to give the navicomputer time to calculate a course through hyperspace.

The _Millennium Falcon_ banked hard to the right, causing its pursuers to briefly falter before they got back on course. The traffic control crafts were less maneuverable in space than the atmosphere, but they were still rather formidable.

As the Corellian freighter went into several gut-wrenching spins, Obi-Wan closed his eyes. A few seconds later, there was a drop of perspiration glistening on his forehead and the air traffic control vehicles had left off their pursuit.

Han, who seemed to have been enjoying the brush with danger, frowned at this new turn of events. "Why'd they just stop?"

Chewie growled at him that the calculations were almost ready, which turned the pilot's attention away from the mysterious circumstances of their escape. A few seconds later, the ship was in hyperspace, and Han Solo was giving himself several congratulatory pats on the back. Luke didn't want to feed this man's ego, but he knew that he was indebted to all three of his rescuers, so he remarked quietly, "Thanks for getting me out of there."

"Not a problem, kid," Han said with a smirk. "It ain't every day I get to break out high-priority Imperial prisoners."

"He is going to be well paid, I can assure you," Obi-Wan told Luke dryly. His eyes were open now, and he no longer seemed to be under the strain that he'd been under before.

Luke, who was sitting in the cockpit next to him, gave him a curious look and then smiled. "Well, nonetheless, you all have my gratitude."

"And mine as well," Opakwa added. "I must say I'm not very fond of Darth Vader."

Chewbacca whuffed something that sounded amused.

"We're going to Alderaan," Obi-Wan informed Luke, "though we can only be there briefly. When it's found out you're missing, Alderaan will probably be the first place Vader looks."

Luke nodded in agreement. "You're right. I shouldn't stay on Alderaan for long."

"Bail Organa should be willing to provide us with an unmarked vessel," Obi-Wan noted. He hesitated briefly. "I wonder if you would be willing to go with me somewhere to learn about the Force?"

Luke's face was a blank, but his mind was working frantically. The Force, it seemed, was not something he could avoid. Whether for ill or good, the Force was in his blood. To have to choose between the ways of the Sith and the ways of the Jedi when months before he'd been hating both of them—it was as if Fate were playing a cruel joke on him. But after reading up on the Sith while he was Vader's prisoner, he knew which path he could never follow.

Still, he wondered if maybe—just maybe—he would be able to avoid the Force if he tried hard enough.

But no—he would be fooling himself if he truly thought he could avoid something that was apparently so intricately tied to his destiny. Looking down at his hands, he said quietly, "Tell me about the Jedi."

Though the young man wasn't meeting his eyes, Obi-Wan gave him a gentle smile. "The Jedi Knights were guardians of peace and justice during the days of the Old Republic. We were the Republic's protectors, its dedicated servants. A Jedi gets his power from the Force."

"What exactly is the Force?" Luke queried, finally turning his gaze toward the Jedi. He knew, sort of, but he didn't really _know_.

"It's an energy field surrounding and binding all life forms together," Obi-Wan told him. "The Force can enable one to levitate objects, read the intentions of others, influence the weak-minded, predict the future...It is a terrible weapon when in the hands of evil, but in the hands of good it is a valuable tool. The Sith reach out to the Force with anger and hate—they use fear and aggression as tools to access the Dark Side. A Jedi touches the Force when he is calm, at peace, using it for defense but never for attack."

"The Jedi sound noble," the young man commented thoughtfully, "but they let their power go to their heads."

Obi-Wan gave a sad nod. "The Jedi became too assured of their power, and it clouded their judgment. That was why Palpatine's true nature was not discovered until it was too late."

Luke closed his eyes, deep in thought. The Force was everywhere—there would be no hiding from it. He hated it—he wished it didn't exist—but it was a _tool_, and didn't he owe it to the galaxy to try to use the powers it gave him for good? Was this what the Jedi had wanted—to use the Force as a tool for good to counteract those who used it for evil? It would be best if the Force didn't exist—yes, he still believed that—but it _did_ exist, and it wasn't possible to just banish its existence. He'd tried with the ysalamiri, but they weren't immortal creatures. They had their limits.

The young man opened his eyes and gave the Jedi Master a keen gaze. Obi-Wan looked back at him calmly, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his eyes and mouth. The man's blue-gray eyes seemed filled with warmth. He did not wish to pressure Luke. Somehow, Luke knew that.

Luke bowed his head out of respect for the Jedi, having just made one decision out of the many facing him. "I think you are a good man, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I would be honored to learn from you."

The older man smiled. "If you do not mind leaving Alderaan with me, Luke, I know a place where we can hide and you can learn more about the Force."

"I don't know if I will commit to the Jedi way," Luke told him honestly, "but I will learn some of what you have to teach me before I make my decision."

Obi-Wan looked a little troubled at the restraint in the boy's answer but nodded nonetheless.

****

Luke Skywalker was gone. The knowledge of that stung in more ways than one.

Mara cursed herself for her foolishness. She should have stood guard at his door—she should have realized that as a politician he had friends in high places. But now he was gone (she had no doubts that the Corellian freighter which had defied Traffic Control and escaped into hyperspace was in possession of his person), and she had to let Darth Vader know.

It was with the liberal use of encryption and highly classified codes that she was finally able to contact him. She had hoped that she wouldn't be able to—that he would be refusing all communication due to his location and his business—but that hope was in vain.

Vader had not declared himself Emperor yet, but Mara knew that he thought of himself as such. And so, when his hologram appeared before her, she bowed and said, "Your Highness."

"I trust you have a suitable reason for disturbing me here, Jade." The Sith Lord's voice was dark. If he'd noticed the change in her appellation for him, he did not show it. She had considered calling him 'master,' but that implied a connection with him which he had never encouraged. And so, she used the title fit for the galactic emperor. But all the titles in the world would not make the task before her any easier.

Mara swallowed and braced herself. "The...prisoner has escaped the planet, Your Highness."

For a period which seemed to stretch almost to infinity, the only sound coming from the Sith Lord was the rhythmic noise of his respirator. When at last he spoke, his voice was colder than Hoth. "I trust you have an explanation for this."

Somehow, in this moment, Mara found herself fearing Vader more than she had ever feared Palpatine, and she wondered if there ever was a more powerful force than that of a father's anger. "The security cameras showed that he escaped with help, Your Highness. His allies were a Wookiee and two human males. A Stormtrooper who survived an encounter with them has reported that one of them used a—a blade of light...Your Highness, I fear that man was a Jedi."

The Sith Lord was afflicted by stony silence yet again. Mara could detect his fists clenching at his side, and she suspected, though a few seconds before she would not have thought it possible, his anger had risen twofold. His next words were bit out individually like sharp shards of glass: "A _Jedi_ has my _son_?"

Mara knew the question was rhetorical, and, rather than replying to it, she said quietly, "We are investigating his disappearance, Your Highness." Inwardly, she recoiled at the revelation that there were bonds of blood between Vader and Skywalker. The Sith Lord's obsession suddenly made sense.

"I suspect the prominent citizens of Alderaan have their hands in this incident," Vader growled. "When the Death Star is finished and my son is recovered, that planet will be its first target."

"Yes, Your Highness," Mara said quietly. She would prefer it if the Death Star were not used at all—the idea of a planet-destroyer sent chills down her spine. She recalled her conversation with Skywalker—he had asked why the Emperor would not just destroy every planet with potential dissenters on it. And she wondered—what was there to stop a galactic emperor from doing so? But the answer was clear. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"I doubt my son is foolish enough to stay on Alderaan. Nevertheless, make sure the planet is thoroughly investigated. Keep me informed of any new leads." The Sith Lord's image disappeared.

Mara stood there for perhaps a minute in thought before leaving to look into Skywalker's disappearance. She could not help but wonder—how much longer would Vader need her? If he converted Skywalker, would she then become disposable? Would she then be killed? The anger Vader must feel now with her must be immense. It did not bode well for her future.

****

What Mara didn't know was that thoughts of her position were furthest from Vader's mind. Vader's anger was directed instead at the Jedi, at Alderaan, and at himself. He should never have left his son—he should have known better than to let the boy out of his sight.

That the Jedi were not all dead filled his heart with a black rage that threatened to consume him. Had this Jedi been hiding on Alderaan the whole time, watching over Luke until the day that he could be corrupted by the Jedi Order's ways? He knew that when his important business was done he would likely need to go to Alderaan himself. Mara Jade would probably not be able to get all—if any—of the answers he wanted. It would likely require brute intimidation and a liberal use of the Dark Side, both of which would best come from him.

Vader suddenly realized that he should have asked to be shown an image of the man with the lightsaber. Who was it that had survived the Jedi Purge? Could it perhaps just be someone who had picked up a lightsaber as a relic of old days and was not a Jedi at all?

Somehow, he doubted it. He suspected he was doomed to forever be plagued by the Jedi. But they would pay for taking his son away from him. He would make sure of it.

And even if he had to rip the galaxy apart at the seams to find Luke, he would.

The boy was destined to join his side.

****

The _Millennium Falcon_ managed to make it to Alderaan. As they were landing, however, a few things started sparking (much to the captain's loudly expressed frustration), so Chewbacca stayed behind with the ship to make the necessary repairs. Obi-Wan, Luke, and Opakwa were taken to meet Bail Organa by Han (who didn't trust them to make it to the Alderaanian's side in one piece without his help), though out of concern for safety their meeting did not take place at Bail's home but at an Alderaanian park. Han Solo had changed into some worn pants, a light-colored shirt, and a black vest, while Obi-Wan and Luke changed into some Alderaanian-style clothing which Bail had provided Han with to give to them. Obi-Wan much preferred his Jedi garb, having worn little else in his life, but it was best to not be conspicuous on a planet which was suffering from a heavy Imperial presence.

Bail Organa was sitting on a stone bench reading a datacard when he looked up and saw them. He and Han Solo had agreed that there should be no prior communication regarding their meeting, so he had timed his appearance at the park as best as he could, taking into account the time it would take to get to Dagobah and then to Coruscant before the group's return to Alderaan, provided everything went relatively smoothly. He had still been anxiously waiting for them for a few hours, but he didn't mind—he liked being out in the fresh Alderaanian air. Though, he must admit, it was hard to enjoy it when he was on pins and needles as he was.

He smiled at them, a strong sense of relief washing over him, and gestured for Luke and Obi-Wan to sit down. As they did so, brushing past a patch of some beautifully overgrown Alderaanian flowers, Han Solo—knowing his payment for the mission would soon be dropped off at his ship by Bail's people, if it hadn't been already—gave Bail a slight nod and then walked away, his duty done. Opakwa stood a few feet away from the bench, having been earlier told he needed to watch for any approaching sentients once they found Bail Organa.

The Alderaanian prince studied Luke for a few seconds before speaking. Now that he was looking, he could definitely see a few traces of Anakin Skywalker in the boy's face. Leia had taken more after Padmé—she was even going to take on the title of senator soon. The boy's full head of hair had been shaven during his imprisonment (Bail knew the young man would not have done so of his own accord), but Bail could remember the way it had been months ago, and, now that he thought about it, it had really looked much like Anakin's had before—well, before...

"It is good to see you again, Luke," the Alderaanian prince said warmly. "I am just sorry that it must be under such difficult circumstances."

"I am glad to see you again, too, Your Serene Highness," Luke returned with a slight sideways bow.

Bail smiled. "Come on, Luke. Your mother never stood on that ceremony, and neither should you. The House of Antilles is just as noble as that of Organa. Call me Bail, like your mother did."

The young man's lips quirked upward. "All right...Bail."

"We were wondering if you would supply us with a transp—" Obi-Wan began.

"I've already prepared one," Bail interrupted with a minute nod.

"Sirs," Opakwa said warningly.

A young couple was approaching. Bail nodded to them as they walked past, speaking again once they were out of earshot. "I take it you're going to Dagobah?"

"Yes," the Jedi affirmed. He placed a hand on Luke's shoulder. "He should be safe there."

"I should imagine so...Oh! I almost forgot!" Bail began fumbling in his pocket. "Your mother left you something. Well, she left you half of her money, of course, but you can't exactly access it right now without bringing the Empire down on your head. However, you _can_ take this." He brought out a small box and handed it to Luke.

Luke opened the small container and stared at the glowing fire opal ring inside. His mouth formed a smile, but there was a sadness in his eyes. "I saw this a few times when I was younger," he noted quietly. "Mother said that she had always admired it when she was a little girl and that her mother had left it to her when she died...It meant a lot to her."

"She's been buried now, Luke," Bail said gently. "Because of the Empire, we can't bury her in the—the Royal cemetery...But I made sure she had a decent burial, Luke."

The young man turned to him, no longer trying to hide his great sorrow as he requested, "May I...go visit her grave?"

The Alderaanian looked to Obi-Wan, who hesitated slightly before nodding. They should be able to spare a few more minutes. Prince Bail Organa stood. "Follow me."

The two others got to their feet, Obi-Wan picking up the satchel he'd set down on the ground.

They took Bail's speeder to the gravesite, which wasn't too far away. After they exited the vehicle, the Alderaanian leader gestured Luke forward while he himself stood back.

"Keep an eye out still," Obi-Wan told Opakwa.

"Yes, sir."

The young man took a few small steps, swallowing due to emotion, and then moved the extra few feet toward his mother's grave. He dropped down to his knees in front of it and bowed his head. The box containing the ring was clenched in his left hand.

Obi-Wan and Bail remained silently together for a few seconds before Obi-Wan commented, "You seem ill at ease." The Jedi turned his head to look at the Alderaanian prince, who gave him an uneasy smile.

"You Jedi always _were_ too perceptive," Bail remarked.

"What's wrong?" Obi-Wan prodded.

The other man studied him for a few moments. He knew he could trust Obi-Wan—how could there be any doubt about that?—but it was engrained in him to be cautious. Still, if there were one person Bail would trust with Rebellion secrets, it would have to be this Jedi Master. "The Empire has a great weapon, Master Kenobi," he said at last. He glanced around briefly for potential listeners, but the graveyard was empty. "The Rebels plan to...destroy it."

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed. "How?"

In a low voice, he said, "A weakness...has been found. I want to oversee the operation, but the Empire's been suspicious of my activities for a while, and I must remain here to avert suspicion."

"What's the probability of success?" the Jedi asked quietly.

"It's going to be difficult," Bail sighed. "A fighter flying at high speeds will have to drop two proton torpedoes into a two-meter wide thermal exhaust port. Our sources say the space station is nearly complete, save for some of its outer shell. Its protective turbolasers should be functional, and we know that it is protected by Star Wings, which will be a roughly equal match with our Y-wings and B-wings. Star Wings are, however, too slow to compare with our X-wing and A-wing fighters, fortunately. We suspect that by now the space station has been assigned several other fighters. We hope surprise will give us an advantage; however, even _with_ the advantage of surprise, it will still be a rough battle."

Luke chose that moment to stand up. He turned and walked toward them. There was a look of determination on his face, and both Obi-Wan and Bail realized he had heard them. "I want to help," the young man said.

"Luke—" Bail said uneasily.

"I'm a good pilot," the young man insisted. "And it's what my mother died for. It's what we were working for, Bail. It's—it's what that whole senator business was about."

"I know, Luke." The Alderaanian bit his lip. "Your mother left a datacard for me explaining everything."

"Then you know why I have to do this."

Bail Organa turned to look at Obi-Wan.

"It will be a very difficult shot," the Jedi noted honestly. "I don't think a targeting computer can hit a target that small at the necessary speed...With the Force, Luke can probably do it."

Luke's face darkened a little at Obi-Wan's words. Would he really be made to rely on that mystical energy field to destroy that monstrosity? He and his mother's goal had been to see to the destruction of the Death Star, yes, but they had raged all the while against the Force users who would create such a monstrosity. Of course, his mother had never _really_ hated Force users for what they were—she'd just hated what they'd done to her life...And he knew she would want him to do anything he could to take down the Death Star.

"He can teach me about the Force on the way to the rendezvous," the young man pointed out.

Bail knew he couldn't refuse the boy, and he nodded, pushing through his misgivings. "All right, then. I will give you coordinates to the base and some clearance codes." He looked at Obi-Wan. "You were a general in the Clone Wars—I imagine it might be possible for you to ride as passenger on one of the capital ships, if you'd like. Perhaps dispense a little advice to some inexperienced officers?"

The Jedi shook his head gently. "I'd prefer to simply wait at the base for Luke. My days of being a general are over."

"Very well." Bail nodded, looking as if he'd expected as much. "Let them know I gave the authorization for Luke to be given a fighter. But you should leave Alderaan now. There isn't much time." Bail Organa gestured toward his speeder.


	14. Pilot: Preparation

**PART 4: PILOT**

**CHAPTER 14: Preparation**

"_Not to worry—we're still flying _half _a ship." __—__Obi-Wan Kenobi, __Revenge of the Sith_

****

After having been given the proper clearance codes and the coordinates to the Rebel base on Yavin IV, Obi-Wan, Luke, and Opakwa entered the ship Bail Organa had given them. To their surprise, a pair of droids awaited them.

"Greetings," one of the machines—a golden protocol droid—said. "It seems we have both been reassigned to you."

The Jedi's brow furrowed. "See-Threepio and Artoo-Detoo?"

The other droid—an R2 unit—whistled happily in response, but the protocol droid looked puzzled. "Pardon me, sir, but do I know you?"

With a smile, Obi-Wan looked at Luke. "These were your father's droids. He actually _built_ the protocol droid."

"You know who the _Maker_ was?" Threepio asked, sounding surprised.

The older man smiled. "You were built by a very talented nine-year old Anakin Skywalker, Threepio."

Artoo whistled confirmation, swaying from side to side.

Threepio looked down at his astromech companion skeptically. "You already _knew_ that, Artoo?" He kicked the astrodroid. "Well, why didn't you tell me before? Really, Artoo!"

Luke chuckled. "I wasn't aware that my father used to own droids, but it's a pleasure to meet you both." He gestured toward the Jedi. "This is Obi-Wan Kenobi, the protocol droid is called Opakwa, and I'm Luke Skywalker."

The smallest droid beeped something about it being his pleasure as well, rolling forward a little. Luke smiled and placed a hand on Artoo's dome. He liked the little guy already.

Obi-Wan couldn't help but stare at the droids as images from the past—most of them surprisingly pleasant—came back to him. Bail's gesture had truly been a kind one—the droids had meant a lot to Anakin, and it was only fitting that Anakin's son should have them.

Still, they were low on time. The occasion for reminiscing was not now.

"Come on, Luke," Obi-Wan said, gesturing for the boy to sit in the pilot's seat.

Luke complied. His hands were soon flying over the controls and lifting their new transport into the air. The droids went to the cargo section of the ship, leaving the two humans alone in the cockpit.

Soon, they were exiting Alderaan's atmosphere with Traffic Control's permission, programming the coordinates into the navicomputer, and making the jump to lightspeed. Obi-Wan, though certainly knowledgeable of the workings of space vessels, let Luke handle everything. He watched the boy's movements, noting his enjoyment of all the intricate details involved in piloting a ship. He reminded Obi-Wan of Anakin, a thought that somehow made him both sad and proud.

They both sat in silence for a few minutes, Obi-Wan waiting for Luke to speak.

Finally, the Jedi's patience was rewarded. "I guess this is it, then," Luke said with a small sigh. "How do I access the Force?"

Obi-Wan smiled. The young man spoke of it as such an arduous task. "You must learn to let go of your conscious self and act on instinct. The Force both controls your actions and obeys your command. Stretch out with your feelings, and let it fill you, Luke." His hand disappeared beneath his robes and brought out the handle of a lightsaber. "If you do, then you will be able to raise this lightsaber from my hand and bring it to you."

Luke nodded in understanding and thought about the weapon for a few seconds. Then he frowned. Nothing was happening.

"Try lifting your hand. You want to call the lightsaber to yourself. Think about its movement."

The boy closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Then he opened them and stared at the saber in the Jedi's palm with a strange intensity. And suddenly, he could _feel_ the lightsaber handle, and he _willed_ it to come to his hand. And then it was _there_.

Luke looked up at the Jedi with a triumphant grin.

"Very good," Obi-Wan complimented him with a smile. "That saber belongs to you now."

The young man's brow furrowed as he stared at the weapon. He almost felt like he'd been tricked into taking it—but that was ridiculous, of course. If he really didn't want it, he was sure Obi-Wan would take it back.

"It belonged to your father," the Jedi said quietly.

The young man's head shot up. "What?"

Obi-Wan gave Luke a hard look. "Did Vader tell you who your father really was?"

The boy hesitated, trying to determine whether Obi-Wan _knew_. But then, his father had said that he had once been a Jedi, so it made sense that Obi-Wan _would_ know. "Yes. He told me he was once the Jedi Anakin Skywalker before he became Darth Vader."

As Obi-Wan didn't look surprised, Luke knew he had guessed right. Quietly, the Jedi asked, "Did he tell you what exactly happened?"

Luke shook his head.

Obi-Wan took in a deep breath as he was bombarded by a sudden rush of painful memories. Though the memories hurt, he felt it was important for Anakin's son to know about Anakin's life. "Anakin was a pupil of mine before he turned to evil. We thought he was the Chosen One, the one who would bring balance to the Force and destroy the Sith. But instead he joined the Sith and left the Force in darkness—all so that he would be able to save his wife Padmé from death..."

The Jedi looked down at the floor, his face tight. "After he turned on the Jedi, killing younglings and people that would have called him 'friend,' he went to the volcanic planet Mustafar. I dueled with him and pleaded with him, but he was convinced everyone had turned against him. I took the high ground and told him it was over, but his pride caused him to jump up to where I was...I—I cut off three of his limbs, leaving only his mechanical one. His clothing...caught on fire, and he was horribly burned." Obi-Wan sighed, the breath leaving his chest with a heavy sadness. "I hated myself for what happened to him, Luke, but he'd left me no choice. I was in danger of turning to the Dark Side if I killed him, so I left his fate to the Force." As the Jedi squeezed his eyes shut, he whispered, "I loved him like a brother. Perhaps for the galaxy's sake, I should have killed him. But for my sake, I did not."

"There may still be good in him," the young man said softly.

The Jedi opened his eyes and shook his head with resolute firmness. "When he became Darth Vader, the good man who was your father was destroyed. He cannot be redeemed."

Luke looked down at his hands, considering the Jedi's words but not commenting on them.

"Afterward, his wife—your mother—died of a broken heart."

The boy exhaled. So that was it. In trying to save someone's life, Anakin Skywalker had brought about the loss of it. Such was the tragedy of Darth Vader.

The two were quiet in thought for a few minutes before Obi-Wan finally spoke again. The subject of Anakin Skywalker was closed, at least temporarily; they had to get back to business. "Since you are to be piloting a ship under very dangerous circumstances, perhaps I should teach you more about concentration. Our space in here is a bit limited, but we can make do." Obi-Wan stood up, reaching into his satchel to pull out a round machine. "Ignite your lightsaber. This training remote will send low-powered blasts at you that you will reflect. The bolts may sting a little, but they will do no lasting damage." He let the training remote fly up into the air. "As you reach out to the Force, make sure you are calm, at peace."

The young man nodded and brought up his lightsaber, carefully watching the remote.

****

Luke's training exercises went well. He learned more about responding to the Force's warnings and using the Force to increase his concentration skills. But before long, however, they had to exit hyperspace. The young man only hoped that the lessons he'd been given would be enough to provide him an edge in the Death Star run.

When they reached Yavin IV, Luke transmitted the proper clearance codes and was directed to a docking bay inside one of the planet's big temples. As Luke ensured their safe landing, Obi-Wan told the droids it would be best if they waited aboard the ship. The protocol droids assented, but when Luke and Obi-Wan moved to exit the vessel, Artoo-Detoo trailed behind them as if the orders hadn't been intended to apply to him.

After the trio exited the ship, they found a welcoming committee awaiting them. It consisted of several Rebels...with weapons trained on them.

The astromech droid made a noise that sounded like 'uh oh.'

One of the Rebels—the leader, it seemed—saw Obi-Wan's garb and frowned. "Are you a Jedi?" he called out cautiously.

"Yes," Obi-Wan confirmed. Both he and Luke were holding their hands up in the air next to their faces. "We were sent here by Bail Organa."

The man who had spoken took a few steps forward. "How do we know you're telling the truth?"

"I have clearance codes from Bail Organa," Obi-Wan noted. After being given a nod that clearly meant 'go ahead,' the Jedi told the Rebels the codes.

After hearing the codes, the gray-haired Rebel leader gestured for his companions to lower their weapons. "Sorry about this poor welcome, but we're working on an important operation, and we've not seen or heard of your vessel before, so we had to take precautions." He gave them a reassuring smile. "I'm Commander Willard."

Obi-Wan gave a slight nod in greeting. "I'm Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. My companion is..." He paused, anticipating something.

Luke frowned, unsure of the reason for such a pause. Suddenly, he stiffened. Obi-Wan, it seemed, was allowing him to choose what last name he would like to take upon himself—Skywalker or Antilles: the name of the mother who had loved him and died for him...or the name of the father who had been consumed by darkness. The choice should have been simple; the answer he should choose was obvious. But that wasn't the choice he made.

"Luke Skywalker," he supplied.

Both he and Obi-Wan felt as if some sort of tension had been released, as if an important choice had been made and there was no going back.

Unaware that anything of import had happened, Willard grinned. "It feels good to have a Jedi among us; I had thought your kind almost extinct."

"Not yet," Obi-Wan smiled.

"What brings you here?"

"We know of the monstrosity that you're up against," the Jedi told him. "Luke here is a skilled pilot, and he wanted to help."

Willard surveyed the boy with a critical eye. "Have you ever flown an X-wing, Luke?"

"No, sir," Luke answered. He hesitated briefly and then told the older man: "But I can learn to fly anything if given the chance, sir."

The Rebel commander chuckled. "Well, you certainly have confidence—in that respect alone, you'd fit in well with Red Squadron. We can get one of the boys to run a quick flight simulator test. We'll all be leaving in a matter of hours to meet at the rendezvous point, so there's not much time, but we could always use another pilot." He motioned over one of the other Rebels. "Take these two to Red Leader. Have him run an X-wing flight sim. I'll leave the judgment on whether Luke here can fly or not to him."

The Rebel nodded. "Yes, sir."

****

While it took Luke a few minutes to completely familiarize himself with the controls in the X-wing combat sim, he soon found himself skillfully maneuvering and destroying simulated fighters. The thrill of flying in combat—even if it _was_ fake—was like nothing he'd ever felt before. All too soon, it was over.

Obi-Wan, Artoo, and Garven Dreis, the commander of Red Squadron, were all waiting for him to exit from the simulator. After he did so, Red Leader moved forward and patted him on the shoulder in a congratulatory fashion. "If you can fly that well in real combat, Luke, I think you just might turn out to be the best pilot in our squadron. One of our regulars has the measles, so it seems that now you've got an X-wing. You already have the astromech, so it's only fitting."

Luke flushed. "Th-thank you sir."

Obi-Wan smiled at the boy. Luke had seemed rather flustered upon receiving the older man's praise. His scores _had_ been impressive—even _Obi-Wan_ had known that. Luke truly _was_ Anakin Skywalker's son.

"Now, I have a little preparation to do," Garven Dreis noted, "but I'm going to take you to the caf to meet your fellow Red Squadron members. We've already had our briefing about the Death Star run, but I'm sure they can catch you up on the details."

Luke nodded. He already knew the basic plan—shoot some torps into the thermal exhaust port—but there were probably several important details he'd missed.

They walked down a few of the Massassi Temple's corridors before arriving at the big room which served as a cafeteria. Red Leader brought him over to a table where a bunch of men sat laughing and talking. Luke found the image somewhat startling, as some of these men would soon be going to their deaths.

"Hey, Boss!" one of the pilots greeted cheerfully. He was swirling an eating utensil around on his plate, mixing food together in a manner which made his meal look altogether unattractive.

"Red Boys, this is Luke Skywalker. He'll be flying with us on the Death Star run. He's a great pilot, so treat him well and catch him up on the mission." The pilots grinned and whooped, and Red Leader began calling off individual names and pointing to pilots: "Luke, meet Elyhek, John, Wedge, Biggs, Porkins, Weltev, Theron, Naytaan, Bren, and Wenton. I don't expect you to remember their names, but I suspect you'll never forget their faces." The statement was made soberly. "Your wingman will be Biggs Darklighter—he's a hotshot pilot from Tatooine."

Luke surveyed the friendly faces looking at him, trying with great effort to remember who was who. As one who had aspired to be a politician, he was generally rather good at it, but even he found the onslaught of names daunting.

Obi-Wan, who was standing next to Dreis, spoke quietly. "I wonder if I might be given some quarters. I'd like to do a little meditation."

"Sure," Red Leader agreed amiably. "I'll show you to some." He turned off and moved to walk away.

The Jedi gently touched Luke's shoulder before following Dreis. "I will find you before you leave," he noted.

Luke nodded and watched as the older man left. Artoo whistled something, his dome swerving so that he could also take in Obi-Wan's departure.

"Have a seat," a pilot said congenially.

"Yeah, we're eating our last meal!" another one added mirthfully.

Biggs Darklighter rolled his eyes. "If there's one thing you'll learn about Red Squadron, it's to never take anyone seriously. Go ahead and sit down; we won't bite. Most of us, anyway."

Luke tentatively took a seat at the table, noting with amusement that more food seemed to be going onto the table and the pilots than into the pilots' mouths. They appeared to be enjoying flicking it at each other.

He was reminded suddenly of his juggling misadventure and felt a pang of—sorrow? Regret?

He had let himself relax then, and it had felt good. He had simply let himself enjoy Mara's presence (what was she up to now? he couldn't help but wonder) and 'have fun,' as it were. He surveyed the heads of the pilots around him and noted the gooey messes which were to be found on the men's (men's? perhaps 'boys' was more apt) faces and in their hair—not even their clothes were spared the indignity of being covered in slop. The people he'd often been around on Alderaan—nobles and politicians—would never have been caught dead participating in such sticky revelries. Even his mother, though she liked to have her fun and was not as uptight as many members of Alderaan's elite, would have frowned on such undignified behavior. But was it really so bad to be messy if one got enjoyment out of it?

"Wedge Antilles," a pilot with dark hair introduced himself. "So, Skywalker, where are you from?"

The new pilot inhaled a little. Yes, it had been a while since he'd really just sat down and talked with other males his age, but he was going to force himself to relax. Still, his voice broke just a little when he first started speaking. "I—I lived on Tatooine when younger, and then I moved to Alderaan."

"That hot Princess Leia is from Alderaan," someone noted with a grin, only to yell "Ow!" when another pilot thumped him. "Well, she is!" he said defensively.

"How long did you live on Tatooine?" Biggs queried.

"Not even ten years," Luke said vaguely. He didn't really want to talk about it.

His discomfort must have showed, for Wedge said, "Well, you're here with us now. Here in the Rebel Alliance, home is where your ship is."

"Aww, but I thought it was where the food was," a rather rotund pilot pouted.

"Piggy, with you, it _is_ where the food is," another pilot said with a smirk.

"I'll remember that comment when you ask me to save your butt from a TIE fighter," Piggy muttered. But despite the wounded look on his face, he was obviously not upset.

Luke smiled. These were good men. He would be proud to go into battle with them.

A few minutes later, he almost rethought that sentiment when Weltev—the pilot with the well-mixed food—dumped his plate onto Wedge's head.

****

Mara Jade sat in her quarters staring down at her hands.

They seemed innocuous enough—small and white, bearing a few barely visible scars.

But they had done much which she was not proud of. She had rid the galaxy of scum, to be sure, and she had relished in doing so, but some of the targets Palpatine had given her...

She shivered. She was almost certain some of those she had killed were good men—she had harbored doubts concerning whether what she was doing was right, but she had chosen to trust in her master. Surely, if Palpatine had wanted them dead, it must have been for the best. At least, that's what she had told herself.

Now, however, she wasn't so sure. She was beginning to doubt the government she had so ardently served. Considerations of the Death Star were near-constantly filling her head. Should _anyone_ have that kind of power?

She couldn't help but concede to herself that the space station was an abomination. Such a thought bordered on sedition, but it clung to her nevertheless.

Would Darth Vader really destroy a planet just out of anger regarding the escape of his son?

His son.

What a revelation _that_ had been. Mara still found it hard to wrap her mind around the notion. How could the sable behemoth that was Darth Vader have ever descended into the world of mortals long enough to beget a child? There was a bit of a mystery surrounding Vader that she wasn't sure she ever wanted dispersed.

No. She should stop thinking negatively of the Empire and its members. She would do her duties. She would remain loyal.

What else was there for her?

****

The X-wing pilots caught Luke up on the little details of the battle, just as Red Leader had said they would. But all too soon (after a few quick showers), they were all suiting up into their orange flight suits (_Orange?_ Luke thought in shock when he first saw them) and rushing to their fighters.

Biggs pointed to an X-wing halfway down the line of ships. "That's Jal's fighter. It's the one you'll be flying."

Luke nodded, shifting his helmet from his left hand to his right. He felt bad that he was using someone else's ship—but it wasn't _his_ fault that Jal was sick. And this battle was very important.

"Meet you at Despayre," the black-haired pilot told his new friend with a smile. He gave a brief wave and then went jogging toward his X-wing.

Luke frowned as the name of the planet echoed in his mind ominously, but then Artoo whistled something, and Luke smiled down at him. "You excited, little buddy?"

The droid whistled an affirmative.

The young man swallowed. He was a little nervous, though he was trying to hide it. The fleet was supposed to rendezvous at a point close to the penal world Despayre and then make a micro-jump into hyperspace so as to end up right in front of the planet. That was where the Death Star was being constructed, and it was likely to be well-protected. The fact that the planet's name sounded like "despair" was something that Luke couldn't manage to get over.

"Luke," a voice said. He turned and saw Obi-Wan moving toward him. "Do you feel prepared?"

"As prepared as I'll ever be," Luke replied with a smile. "But don't worry—I have Artoo to protect me."

The droid whistled in agreement, and the Jedi chuckled. "Indeed." He then gave the young pilot a serious look. "Remember to use the Force, Luke. Don't rely on your targeting computer—use your instincts instead."

"I will," the young man promised.

"After the battle, return here. I will be waiting for you with Opakwa and Threepio."

Luke Skywalker looked sober. "And if I don't survive?"

"I will know," the Jedi said softly. "If I must return to Dagobah alone, I will." But he gave the younger man a smile. "You are a skilled pilot, Luke. I have faith that you will return."

"That makes one of us," Luke said, only half in jest. He turned his head to look at his ship. Most of the other pilots were already in their fighters.

"Be careful, Luke," the Jedi said, knowing Luke needed to get into his own X-wing fighter. "And may the Force be with you."

****

**Author's Note:** **Wookieepedia says the pilot bearing the name "Red Twelve" in ANH is unknown. So, in a nod to this unnamed pilot, I've named him Weltev (which is "twelve" rearranged).  
**


	15. Pilot: Battle

**PART 4: PILOT**

**CHAPTER 15: Battle**

"_If you want to grow old as a pilot, you've got to know when to push it and when to back off." —Chuck Yeager _

****

Luke made the jump into hyperspace with no problems, the ship already feeling like a second skin to him. However, once he was in hyperspace, there was nothing to occupy his hands, which meant his mind was left similarly unoccupied. It didn't take long for a dozen thoughts to begin an assault on his brain. Strangely, it was not the Death Star that was foremost on his mind.

Instead, he found himself thinking primarily about Darth Vader and Mara Jade. As Imperials, they were his enemies. In theory, it was that simple, but it didn't really _feel_ simple at all.

He knew where he stood with them—they wanted him to convert to the Dark Side and join them. They did not want to kill him or hurt him.

But it was strange—surely, the struggle they would go through to convert him would not be worth whatever abilities or potential he would bring to the Empire. If Vader wanted an apprentice, he could always find one in Mara Jade. She was intelligent, resourceful, loyal...and he wouldn't let his thoughts go any farther than that. Still, he had to wonder—with Mara Jade around, why was Vader pursuing Luke's allegiance?

The answer was simple. It was because he was Vader's son.

Luke could have dismissed Vader's obsession with him as just being the Sith Lord's suffering from a what's-mine-is-mine complex, but he knew that wasn't it. The monster had once been a man in love—Luke was the living proof of that. Perhaps he wanted Luke because he was something that remained of his dead wife. And if that was so, it must mean there was still good in him, right?

As for Mara—Luke didn't think she had ever truly been consumed by the Dark Side. If he could turn Vader back to the Light, it would mean she would no longer have a dark master to serve...Would she be able to still hold on to the Empire when the main focus of her life was gone?

Maybe—just maybe—there was hope for them both.

Luke had never thought of himself as anyone's savior, not even when he was willing to sacrifice himself that the Death Star might be destroyed—he had just done what he had thought should be done. But perhaps he could find a way to save these two lost souls. Maybe he _could_ be a savior.

It was then that he decided he would become a Jedi. He _had_ to try to tear the two Force users away from the Dark Side's influence and let them find peace at last. To do so, he would need to bring them to the Light—but he couldn't do that if he wasn't well-acquainted with the Light Side himself.

****

The Rebel fleet grouped together very quickly. A few minutes passed to allow any stragglers to arrive, and then the ready signal was given, and the amassed Rebel ships all made the jump into hyperspace. A few more minutes later, they were facing the planet Despayre.

"They knew we were coming!" one of the Red Squadron pilots—Elyhek Rue—exclaimed almost immediately.

"Cut the chatter, Red Seven," Red Leader commanded.

Elyhek's statement appeared to be only partially correct. Three Star Destroyers orbited the planet, but most of their fighters were not deployed, which seemed to indicate that the Empire had harbored suspicions of an attack but had possessed no knowledge of when it would actually come. Fortunately, the Alliance had been able to send some capital ships to the foray, and those ships quickly moved toward the Star Destroyers to keep them occupied.

Though they had thought to send such heavy firepower to Despayre, the Rebel leaders knew that the determiners of this battle's outcome would actually be starfighters. The only danger the Star Destroyers posed to the quick Rebel ships was their possession of starfighter squadrons of their own.

"All wings report in," Red Leader commanded. After the eleven pilots in his squadron sounded off, he said, "All right. Lock S-foils into attack position."

Luke's hands brushed the controls, and the wings of his ship unfolded. Then he moved in formation with the rest of Red Squadron, and they approached the Death Star. Their movements weren't perfect, as the squadron was mostly made up of rookies, but there was still a beauty about the whole proceeding which the young man admired.

"We're about to pass through its magnetic field," Dreis pointed out, "so hold tight and switch your deflector shields on."

The X-wings were buffeted as they entered the magnetic field, but they soon stabilized. Artoo whistled something, and Luke shook his head in amusement. He felt almost as if his veins were on fire. There was something exciting about this battle, something which called to him...

Red Squadron's commander broke into his thoughts with a command: "Double front!"

Luke brought his thoughts back to his present task, and he, along with the rest of Red Squadron, continued to approach the still-unfinished Death Star, which seemed to loom larger and larger.

Wedge exclaimed in amazement, "Look at the size of that thing!"

Luke had to struggle to keep a smile off his face. Look at the size of it, indeed.

"I said to cut the chatter, Red Two," Red Leader admonished. "Now, accelerate to attack speed, Red Boys! This is it!"

The plan was for Gold Squadron to head for the target shaft while Red Squadron flew cover. The Y-wings of Gold Squadron were slow but powerful, and it was hoped they would be able to reach the thermal exhaust port before very many Imperial fighters were deployed.

As the Y-wings approached their destination, Red Squadron dove toward the space station's surface. As expected, some Star Wings—which looked a lot like modified _Lambda_-class shuttles—came to intercept them, but the X-wings were too fast to be easily taken down. The Star Wings then switched their attack to Gold Squadron, which Red Squadron was trying to keep them away from.

"After those fighters, Red Boys!" Dreis called out.

The X-wings broke formation to pursue the Star Wings. The Imperial fighters had strong shields and ion cannons, but their slow maneuverability was a definite disadvantage.

"Good shot, Wedge!" Biggs exclaimed as one of the Star Wings was taken down.

Luke watched with a small smile as a blip disappeared from his screen. Though he hadn't known them for long, he already felt proud of his squadron mates. Without good men like these, the Rebels wouldn't have a chance. As it was, Luke felt hopeful, if worried.

"TIE Fighters coming in," Red Leader warned them. "Let's get back down to the Y-wings."

The Y-wings were strafing the Death Star's surface, and the TIE fighters seemed to be gunning for them. Things were starting to look bleak for Gold Squadron.

"Heavy fire, Boss," Wedge said in warning. The Death Star's turbolasers—operational, as it had been feared—were letting off several dangerous volleys.

"I see it," Red Leader noted grimly. "Stay low."

His fingers twitching for action, Luke said into his headset, "This is Red Five. I'm going in!"

He began a quick nosedive, his lasers flaring and causing several small but short-lived fires. Then there was a sudden massive explosion on the Death Star's surface, and the young man's breath caught in his throat.

"Luke, pull up!" Biggs cried out.

But there was no time, and Luke found himself flying through the fireball. After a span of a few seconds during which he wasn't sure if he would live or die, Luke brought his starfighter out of the fire and upward.

"You all right?" Biggs asked concernedly.

_He_ was all right, though his ship was singed. "I got cooked a little," he admitted to his wingman, "but fortunately I think it was a little too rare for Piggy's tastes."

"I heard that," the corpulent pilot said sourly.

Biggs chuckled into his headset.

"Red Five, let me know when you're going back in," Red Leader ordered. His ship was being pelted by flak, and he flew past Luke and began his attack dive.

"I'm going in now, sir," Luke said.

"Be careful," Dreis warned. "There's some heavy fire on the right side of that deflection tower."

"All right," the young man replied with a nod. He took his X-wing into a barrel roll and was soon down by the Death Star's surface, destroying first a few radar emplacements and then a TIE Fighter which was pursuing Red Leader. His ship got hit by a lot of noisy flak, but he nevertheless felt almost triumphant. _This_ was flying!

"Thanks, Red Five," Red Leader said appreciatively. After a few seconds, he noted, "Several more enemy fighters coming our way."

Six TIE Fighters were approaching. The X-wings continued their strafing run—the Star Wings had pulled away, of no use against the X-wings—and Luke's wingman soon picked up a tail.

"I've got one behind me," the Tatooinian pointed out, his voice sounding slightly panicked. He was twisting his ship around in an attempt to lose the fighter, but it wasn't helping. "I can't shake him!"

The TIE sent several blasts at Biggs that missed but came too close to home to cause any sense of relief. Biggs moved closer to the Death Star's surface, but the TIE was still closely on him.

Luke dove down toward his wingman. "Hang on, Biggs, I'm coming." Luke's fingers flew across the controls, letting loose a barrage of laser blasts at the TIE Fighter.

The Imperial ship exploded, and Luke cried out triumphantly, "Got him!"

"Thanks, Luke," Biggs said, sounding relieved.

Wedge's fighter was above Luke's as he shot at and finally destroyed a TIE Fighter. "Watch your back, Luke," he cautioned. "There's a fighter above you, coming in."

Luke pulled his ship up away from the Death Star's surface. The TIE managed to get a shot off at him, causing a small fire on the right side of his X-wing. Luke twisted to look out of his cockpit at the flames on his fighter. "I'm hit, but not bad," he told his squadron mates over his headset. To his astromech droid, he said, "See if you can do anything with that fire, Artoo."

The droid beeped in affirmation; he was already on it.

The TIE Fighter was still behind him. Luke's hands flew across the controls, but this guy was good, and he couldn't shake him. "I've got a tail," he noted, trying to remain calm. It was closing in on him.

Biggs began to move toward him. Luke was skilled enough with his ship that the TIE couldn't get another clear shot at him, and seconds later Biggs was shooting at the enemy fighter.

"Hold on, Luke," Biggs gritted.

A few seconds later, the TIE went up in a ball of flames.

"Thanks, Biggs," Luke breathed. That had been close.

"Hey, that's what wingmen are for! I protect your back—you protect mine."

"I'll remember that," the newest member of the squadron smiled.

Minutes later, three Y-wings from Gold Squadron were starting their attack run, diving down into the Death Star trench. The Death Star's turbolasers fired at them, mostly missing, but then one of the Y-wings went up in flames. The other two continued on.

As the pair of Y-wings zoomed down the trench, Red Squadron tried to keep the TIE Fighters occupied. It was a tough job—the Star Destroyers and the Death Star had finally started deploying more fighters. Soon, the Rebel forces would likely be overrun.

"Switch to your targeting computer," Gold Leader told his wingman as he approached the exhaust port.

A few seconds later, the other Y-wing pilot noted, "My computer's locked. I'm getting a signal." A laserbolt grazed his ship's side, but he ignored it. A few minutes later, he gave a gasp and said, "The guns—they've stopped."

And indeed the turbolasers were no longer actively pursuing the Rebel crafts. And then three TIE Fighters, one of which seemed to be a modified version of the typical TIE, were moving down in perfect formation toward the Death Star's surface. Less than a minute later, the modified TIE had shot down Gold Leader's wingman.

Panicking, Gold Leader exclaimed, "I can't maneuver!" He tried moving his fighter about in a zigzag pattern, but the TIEs were locked on to him resolutely.

The modified TIE, which was being flanked by the other TIEs, assaulted the Y-wing with a barrage of laser blasts. The Rebel fighter burst into flames and crashed into the trench.

Luke had just shot down a TIE when he saw the last Y-wing blip disappear from his screen.

It seemed he wasn't the only one who noticed it. "Red Group, this is Red Leader," Dreis said soberly, a 'get ready' tone in his voice. "Rendezvous on my mark." He looked at his scopes and then rattled off the rendezvous point.

"Copy, Red Leader, this is Red Two," Wedge said as he flew his X-wing over to the designated area.

"Red Three, standing by," Biggs said.

"Red Five is ready," Luke said calmly.

"Red Ten is also ready."

"Red Twelve here."

"Only half of us will go on this run," Red Leader noted. "Luke, you'll take Reds Two and Three. Wait here for my signal to start your run."

"Copy that, Red Leader," Luke said. Really, the plan made him nervous—he was probably a lot less experienced than Biggs and Wedge, yet he was to take charge of them? Had his scores on the sim really been _that_ good?

"Ten and Twelve, you're with me," Dreis noted.

And then Red Leader, Red Ten, and Red Twelve were beginning their trench run.

Luke and his two wingmen flew high above the Death Star, shooting down five nearby TIEs, three of which were hit by Luke. After Luke's third such accomplishment, Wedge whistled. "Stang, Luke, leave some for the rest of us, huh?"

"Sorry," Luke said sheepishly. But he wasn't really sorry, and he found himself grinning.

A few minutes later, Luke's eyes were glued to his scopes worriedly. "Watch out, Red Leader. Three fighters coming down at you."

"Thanks, Red Five," Dreis said. "I see them." As the TIEs approached, he commented, "I'm in range," and turned on his targeting computer. "Almost there! Hold them off for a few seconds."

And then suddenly the three TIEs were behind him in the trench, and their leader—who was piloting the modified TIE—was destroying Red Twelve.

At the loss of his squadron mate, Red Ten—Theron Nett—began to panic. "You'd best let her loose, Boss."

"Almost there," Dreis noted, sounding as if he were trying to _will_ himself to reach the needed position in front of the exhaust port.

"I can't—I can't hold 'em!" Red Ten cried out in a panic. When Vader's lasers hit him, he screamed briefly over his headset and was then silent.

The grim Red Leader continued, carefully watching his targeting computer. "It's away!" he said triumphantly after shooting the proton torpedoes at the exhaust port. He pulled up out of the trench and began zooming away from the Death Star.

Several seconds later, Red Leader was sighing. "That's a negative. The shot didn't go in—it just impacted on the surface." His disappointment was obvious.

"All right, Red Leader," Luke said over his headset, "we're right above you. Move to point oh-five, and we'll cover for you."

But Red Leader was being shot at by the three TIEs. "No need to approach me," the squadron head said grimly, examining his ship's controls. "I've lost my starboard engine. Prepare for your attack run."

"Red Leader—" Luke said quietly, his throat tight.

But then the TIE leader's shots made direct contact, and Garven Dreis went into a tailspin shortly before his ship impacted with the Death Star's surface. Another bright light gone out.

Luke swallowed, feeling a wave of helplessness wash over him. But this was no time to despair or mourn those who had died. This was the time to be a leader. "Biggs, Wedge, cover me. We're going in full-throttle."

"We're with you, Luke," Wedge said.

Luke nodded to himself and took in a deep breath. It was time for their attack run.

****

**Author's Note:**** Thanks for the reviews, guys!**


	16. Pilot: Culmination

**PART 4: PILOT**

**CHAPTER 16: Culmination**

"_He was the best starpilot in the galaxy...and a cunning warrior." —Obi-Wan Kenobi, on Anakin Skywalker, __A New Hope_

****

At Luke's signal, the three remaining Red Squadron X-wings came together and then dove in formation toward the Death Star.

"At that speed, Luke, do you think you'll be able to pull out in time?" Biggs wondered, sounding a little worried. Luke had given him and Wedge the understanding that he—Luke—would be the only one targeting the exhaust port.

"Don't worry about me," Luke said tersely. "Worry about that Death Star." Even if he died in front of the Death Star and failed to become a Jedi, at least he would have been part of the effort to bring down this monstrosity. That was all that really mattered. It was what he and his mother had been fighting for.

The Death Star's turbolasers flashed wildly in the trench, trying to track the three swift X-wing fighters.

"We'll do our best to cover you," Biggs said firmly.

"My scopes are showing the tower," Wedge commented, "but I can't see the exhaust port. That thing's awful small, Luke—are you sure the computer will be able to hit it?"

"I'm not using the computer," Luke said in a soft but determined voice.

"Luke—" Red Two began, sounding worried.

"Just trust me, Wedge."

"All right, Boss," the other man said after a few seconds.

"Now, increase speed full-throttle."

"But what about the tower?" Biggs asked.

"Worry about those fighters, you two—_I'll_ worry about the tower."

Luke's finger kept triggering his lasers as he returned fire. One of his wings was grazed—maneuverability was difficult in the trench—and he said to Artoo, "That stabilizer's broken loose, Artoo. Try to lock it down!"

The droid whistled acknowledgement and did as he was told.

"TIEs are coming, Luke," Wedge said warningly.

Luke felt a tickle in the back of his mind as he looked at the fighters, and then he realized what it was—_Vader_ was in that modified fighter. _Vader_.

The Sith Lord must have realized the Rebels were planning something and left Coruscant to deal with it. And if _Luke_ knew that Vader was nearby, then Vader must surely feel him, too. "Ah, Sithspit," the young man muttered to himself ironically.

****

Vader's blood ran cold when he realized just who the current leader of the remaining X-wing fighters was.

How in the _blazes_ had his son ended up here? Were the Jedi purposefully trying to mock him? Was this Fate trying to lure him into killing his son?

Trying to contain his rage, Vader sent through the Force, _Luke_.

After a few seconds, the boy—seeming a bit bewildered—returned, _Father_.

_Cease this, Luke. Don't make me destroy you._

But he felt the boy's confused Force sense turn to determination. Luke didn't respond to Vader's command, somehow managing to close his mind, but Vader realized that Luke knew his father had no intention of actually destroying his son—at least not in a space battle.

"Jedi's bones," the Sith Lord growled to himself furiously.

****

Vader and his wingmen were fast approaching the remnants of Red Squadron, and Vader managed to score a crippling hit on Wedge.

"Blast!" The Corellian cursed. "I'm hit—I—I can't stay with you, Luke." His voice sounded strained.

"That's all right, Wedge," Luke said smoothly, feeling a strange calm determination coming over him. The words his father had sent him through the Force had thrown him off balance, but now he was starting to view matters with clarity. "Get clear. You're not going to do any good staying back there and getting yourself killed."

"Sorry," Wedge apologized as he pulled his X-wing away, the word feeling woefully inadequate.

"They're coming in fast, Luke. Try to hurry up—I can't hold them."

Luke swallowed. The TIEs were still on him and Biggs. He knew—somehow, deep down in his gut, he _knew_—Vader wouldn't kill him today. Biggs, however, was another matter. He made a sudden decision. "Biggs, break off!"

"What?" the other man returned, startled.

"Break away."

"Luke—"

"That's an order!" he shouted into his headset. His heart was pumping, and he was nervous. "Sorry, Biggs," he apologized. "But pull out. Just trust me. Please."

The X-wing fighter belonging to Red Three remained on course for a few more seconds before pulling away from the Death Star. "I don't know what you're doing, Luke, but if you fail—"

"I won't, Biggs." He _couldn't_. "Just go!"

And then Biggs was speeding away, and Luke was left alone in the trench. Inhaling deeply, the young pilot instructed, "Artoo, try to increase the power."

The little droid whistled and began working on his master's instruction.

But the TIEs were still getting closer. Vader had started shooting the occasional blast at him, but Luke knew the Sith Lord was being careful, going for a blow that would cripple his ship but not kill him. It was a mostly useless gesture, however—at the speed he was going, a hit that would cripple him in space would likely prove lethal in the narrow Death Star trench.

Luke closed his eyes briefly to touch the Force, and then he opened them. Recalling Obi-Wan's words, he used the Force to guide his hand. He wasn't close enough, it was telling him. He had to last a little longer.

Vader tried a few more blasts which missed. And then one of Vader's wingmen was destroyed by a volley of laserfire.

Luke frowned—who had destroyed that fighter?

"Wahoo!" a familiar voice said over his headset. Luke felt a great sense of relief as he realized it was the pilot who'd rescued him from Vader—Han Solo.

And then Vader's remaining wingman seemed to panic, veering over to the side and colliding with Vader's fighter. The wingman then crashed into the trench, his fighter exploding. Vader's ship spun out of the trench with a damaged wing.

Luke felt his face break into a smile.

"You're all clear, kid," the _Millennium Falcon_'s pilot told him. "Now, blow this thing so we can get out of here."

"Thanks," Luke said with a grin.

And then he was shooting off a pair of proton torpedoes which disappeared into the exhaust port. He pulled his X-wing up and away from the Death Star. "It's a hit!" he exclaimed.

He and the other survivors of the battle rushed away from the Death Star—small explosions were lighting up on the surface, and it wasn't long before the whole battlestation burst into a supernova.

"Great shot, kid," Han complimented. "That was one in a million."

"Good job, Luke," Biggs said quietly over his headset.

Luke's eyes were closed in relief as he listened to the words of his comrades.

"I would've died if I'd stayed out there," the Tatooinian admitted reluctantly. "And you took that thing down."

"Don't worry about it, Biggs," Luke said softly. "I just had a hunch and acted on it." It wasn't _exactly_ a lie.

He noted with uneasy relief that Vader had been able to escape the explosion.

****

When Luke returned to Yavin IV in his X-wing, he expected to get out, find Obi-Wan, and then leave for Dagobah. What he didn't expect was for a bunch of ecstatic Rebels to start cheering as he climbed down his ship's ladder. There were happy shouts, relief-filled laughter, and gleeful congratulations assailing him from all around. He was overwhelmed, faltering on the second-to-bottom rung before finally stepping down onto the ground with uncertain feet.

Several people came over and clapped him on his shoulders. Even Han Solo came over to vigorously tousle his hair (a move which somehow managed to both annoy and amuse him).

"You're the last person I expected to see at Despayre," Luke said with a small grin, glad to see the man had also come back to the Rebel base on Yavin IV. He knew the smuggler only liked to do things when he would be well paid for them, and his help at the Death Star run had been very unexpected but very welcome.

Han shrugged. "Yeah, well, my girlfriend wouldn't have forgiven me if I hadn't helped out, so I decided to come and crash the party."

"Well, I'm glad you did," the younger man said sincerely. He didn't know this Han Solo very well, but he suspected there was a very good man hidden beneath his mercenary exterior.

After a few more congratulations were given, the crowd began to disperse, and Luke finally found the person he was looking for. "Obi-Wan!" he exclaimed, jogging toward the older man.

The Jedi smiled at him as he approached. "You did very well, Luke."

"The Force helped a lot—" Luke admitted. "I don't think it would have been possible without it...Thanks for letting me do this, Obi-Wan." The boy spoke the last sentence quietly.

"I think you were meant to do it," Obi-Wan said. "The Force seemed to indicate it was necessary." He hesitated for a second before noting, "General Dodonna came to talk to me about you."

The Rebel hero frowned. "Really?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "He told me they were having a ceremony honoring the people involved in the Death Star's destruction at Despayre. He wants you to be there."

Luke Skywalker shuffled his feet, looking down at the ground. A _ceremony_? He didn't deserve to be honored in a ceremony—without the Force, he couldn't have ever made that shot. It wasn't fair that Force powers had given him the advantage. He opened his mouth to protest, but Obi-Wan spoke first.

"Force powers are a gift just like good piloting skills, Luke," the Jedi said gently. "We are expected to use our gifts, and no one here would think less of you for using the Force to destroy the Death Star."

The young man shifted again uncomfortably. "I don't feel like I should be honored for it."

"Luke," the Jedi said firmly, "you did something that no one else out there was able to do. You destroyed a machine that could wipe entire planets out of existence. That is something which you should be proud of. I know your mother would have been proud of you."

Luke didn't comment, though the words seemed to have affected him.

"The Rebels need someone to rally around, Luke. We can hold off on going to Dagobah for a little while longer. This ceremony will be good for morale—and if you don't go, they will be missing the person who made the blow that actually destroyed the Death Star."

"Yeah, but I didn't die for it." The youth turned away abruptly.

Obi-Wan was quiet, knowing that the young man was considering his words. This was a hard step for Luke, the Jedi knew. He seemed to have a very strong aversion to taking on the status of 'hero,' as if he didn't believe he could ever be worthy of the position. But Skywalkers were born heroes—their names were written in the stars. Even Anakin's mother had been a hero, giving up her son to people she barely knew so that he could have a better life.

"I will do it for _them_," Luke said at last, though he didn't look at Obi-Wan. "...But not for myself. I don't deserve a medal just because I had powers no one else had. That wouldn't be fair."

The Jedi held his tongue. There was no sense arguing any further. For the moment, he would let the issue slide.

****

Luke and the other survivors of the trench fight at what had been dubbed the Battle of Despayre—Han, Chewie, Wedge, Biggs, and a Y-wing pilot named Keyan Farlander—walked up to the giant pair of doors which would lead them into the Massassi main temple. The doors seemed somewhat foreboding in their dark enormity, and Luke found himself exchanging a nervous glance with Han, who seemed no more accustomed to receiving honors than he was.

"Get ready, kid," the smuggler mumbled under his breath, making it sound as if the awaiting ceremony would be ten times worse than the actual battle had been.

Luke inhaled deeply in anticipation, and the doors opened, revealing hundreds of uniformed Rebel troops lined up in rows that were so straight that he found himself wondering idly if someone had gone through and made sure they were all standing in the right places. The Rebels were all facing the center aisle...which the acclaimed Death Star heroes would soon be walking down.

The six pilots looked down at the Rebels for a moment before they started their descent. Luke found himself praying he wouldn't trip. He readied the Force, just in case anything should happen—

—and before he knew it, they were on level ground, moving down the long aisle toward the end of the temple where Princess Leia (wasn't she a senator by now? what was she doing _here_?) stood waiting for them, clad in purest white, her hair beautifully arranged at the back of her head. Surrounding Leia were various generals and Rebel dignitaries, all of them bedecked in their best dress uniforms and practically beaming with joy.

Midway down the aisle, Chewie let out a roar, and Luke found himself chuckling lightly at the sound with Han. The moment took away a little bit of his anxiety, and he was able to stop focusing so much on not tripping.

And then they were climbing the stairs at the end of the big room, the Rebels turning as one to face them. The Alderaanian princess gave each of them a solemnly significant gaze...which merely served to make Luke even more anxious. And then she brought her gaze back again to meet Luke's nervous eyes, and she smiled warmly.

The gesture was enough to alleviate a bit more of his anxiety, and he found himself grinning back at her. They'd been really good friends before he had alienated her and they had drifted apart. It was nice to see her again. He had missed talking to her.

General Dodonna moved forward and then turned around as an officer handed him a golden medal. The medal, Luke noted, was a shining engraved circle. The circle was suspended from a gold rectangle which was attached to an olive-green ceremonial ribbon. The six heroes had been informed that they were each receiving the highest honor the Rebel Alliance could award. It was given to them in honor of both their bravery and their ingenuity in the Death Star run. Luke found himself staring at it in apprehensive awe, his stomach full of furry moths at the thought of its being bestowed upon him.

The Alderaanian princess looked at Han and gave him a particularly warm smile—and Luke was suddenly hit by the certainty that _she_ was the girlfriend Han had mentioned. He found himself furrowing his brow at _that_ one, but then the princess _had_ surprised him before, and he'd certainly seen stranger couples. After all, he thought wryly, it wasn't like a certain _Imperial_ woman hadn't been featured in a few of his dreams.

The Rebel general gave the medal to Leia, who took it and held it out, the gold shining in the light.

As Luke had fired the shot that destroyed the Death Star, he was to receive his medal first. His breath caught in his throat, and he bent his head down as Leia draped the medal over him. It hit his chest with a light _thunk_, and he swallowed, a bit surprised at its weight. He resisted the urge to touch it, trying to keep himself composed. None of his speeches on Alderaan had ever made him this nervous.

Her lips barely moving, Leia whispered to Luke, "My father talked to me. You may have saved countless worlds. Thank you." And then she was moving away from him and being handed another medal by Dodonna.

As Luke's companions were given medals, he considered the young woman's words. They must mean she understood that his attempt for the Imperial Senate seat had not been an attempt to usurp her. His friend—who had been avoiding him despite the many chances they'd had on Alderaan to talk to each other—was his friend again. A smile came to his face at that thought. One could never have too many friends.

After the final member of their party had been given a medal, all six of the heroes bowed as one to the people on the platform before them, and then they turned around to face the awaiting crowd. The Rebels began clapping, cheering, and whistling, and Chewbacca growled proudly. The heroes couldn't help but smile at the joyous faces in front of them—even Luke found his face brightening.

Obi-Wan had been right—this was what the Rebels had needed for morale. Even if it was for just a handful of moments, all the beings in that great Massassi temple felt as if the whole galaxy were at peace.


	17. Jedi: Training

**PART 5: JEDI**

**CHAPTER 17: Training**

"_Always a pleasure to meet a Jedi." —Jango Fett, __Attack of the Clones_

****

On the way to Dagobah, Luke asked Obi-Wan to tell him more about his biological mother, and the Jedi complied warmly. He told Luke about Padmé's commitment, her bravery, and her determination to ensure that the _right_ thing was done. The young man smiled wistfully at a lot of what Obi-Wan said, finding himself wishing he'd been able to know his mother. Still, it was fortunate that he had someone now who could tell him about her—he'd never realized how much he'd really wanted that.

When they finally reached Dagobah, the youngest member of their party found himself rethinking his decision. The ship's scopes picked up no cities or technologies on the dismal celestial body looming before them—just massive life-form readings. Not even Tatooine was as remote as this.

Obi-Wan guided Luke to where he should put the ship down, and the transport soon passed through some thick gray clouds before finally resting on the ground. The whole planet was nothing but swampland.

"And you've been living here for _how_ long?" Luke muttered in amazement. If he'd had to make a choice between the swamps of Dagobah or the sands of Tatooine, he might have actually chosen Tatooine.

"For about as long as you've been alive," Obi-Wan said with a smile. "After taking you to Tatooine to live with your aunt and uncle, I came to Dagobah. I did not tell you this, Luke, but I will not be your primary instructor. Here, you will meet Master Yoda."

"Yoda?" Luke echoed.

"When I was younger, he instructed me about the Force. I had a different Jedi Master when I was older, as was customary, but you'll find his lessons are long-lasting. Master Yoda is very knowledgeable. He was one of the most respected members of the Jedi Order."

The two men—both of them wearing clothing that would be somewhat suitable for trudging through a swamp, with Obi-Wan in his Jedi robes and Luke in a simple gray flightsuit—left the cockpit and began to walk down the ramp. The three droids started following them.

"You guys stay back here, all right?" Luke said to them. The swamp water wasn't exactly machine-friendly, and he didn't want them to be damaged.

"Very well, sir," Threepio said, dipping his head. He didn't sound upset.

"Yes, Master Luke," Opakwa acknowledged, also perfectly at ease.

Artoo gave the astromech equivalent of an eye roll and then kept right on following the two humans out of the ship. Neither one stopped him.

As soon as Luke stepped foot on the swampy ground, he felt an eerie sensation come over him. "I feel something...strange," he murmured to Obi-Wan. The Jedi nodded but did not reply. "I feel like..."

"Feel like what?" a voice said to his right.

Luke twisted, igniting his lightsaber and holding it at the ready. "Like I'm being watched."

Before him stood a small green creature with big ears, old brown robes, and a cane. The being held up the cane in front of his face, as if to ward off a blow. "Away put your weapon—I mean you no harm."

The young man stared at the stranger for a few moments before clipping his saber to his belt. He sensed no deceit, but he was still on his guard.

"I am wondering—" the being said, scrunching his face up, "—why are you here?"

Luke looked at Obi-Wan, who was being oddly silent. "We're looking for someone," the young man answered vaguely.

"Looking?" the stranger peered up at him. "Found someone, you have, hmm?" He seemed a little pleased with his comment and started chuckling.

Luke smiled. "I guess that's right." He glanced over at his quiet Jedi mentor, who gave him a nod of encouragement. "But we're looking for someone in particular. Perhaps you know him—he goes by the name of 'Yoda.'"

The creature's eyes seemed to widen. "Ah, yes, Yoda! A Jedi Master, he is." He gave Luke a solemn look before abruptly hobbling over to stare at Artoo.

Artoo whistled something at him, and the little being started poking at him with his stick. The droid didn't seem to like that and gave a nasty blat.

"That's not very nice," Luke told the creature, trying to shoo him away from Artoo. "He's just a droid—he won't hurt you."

The stranger stopped prodding the machine and turned his gaze to Luke, looking as if he were sizing him up. "This thing—where did you get it?"

"He—" Luke swallowed, a lump suddenly caught in his throat. "He belonged to my father."

"Oooh." The being seemed to consider that. "Know much about your father, do you?"

It was sort of an odd question coming from a stranger, but the young man answered it nonetheless. "More than I'd like, really."

"Hmm. Often, learn we things we would rather not know," the creature announced sagely.

"Still, perhaps it's better that we're given the knowledge. If we didn't know something, we could make a huge mistake," Luke pointed out. One example was if he'd killed Darth Vader rather than simply holding him prisoner (a thought which had certainly crossed his mind during a few dark moments). Yes, he would have been ridding the galaxy of a monster, but he would also have been unknowingly depriving himself of a father.

The creature nodded. "Some wisdom in that, is there..."

Luke had found himself a little bit annoyed by the alien at first, thinking him little more than unneeded distraction, but the little guy really wasn't all that bad. And so, with a smile, he said, "My name is Luke Skywalker...What's your name?"

The small being looked at him with strangely wise eyes. He got the sudden feeling that the stranger was judging him, categorizing his flaws and weaknesses all with that one gaze. So, it was only with partial surprise that Luke heard him utter the word "Yoda."

Something compelled Luke to drop to his knees, even though it meant his pants would become uncomfortably wet and muddy. There was just something about being in this being's presence—knowing the great power and wisdom he must hold despite his unassuming appearance—that struck him. Luke could just feel in his bones that this small creature was _worthy_. And so he bowed to the Jedi Master unashamedly.

Yoda smiled at the gesture, inclining his head. Then he made a motion for Luke to get to his feet. "Rise, young one. Always changing, your future has been. Existed for you, many paths have, and here at last, you finally are. Good to see you, it is, Luke Skywalker."

The young man turned his gaze downward, feeling suddenly nervous. "I am pleased to meet you, Master Yoda."

"Has some patience, he does," Yoda noted, looking toward Obi-Wan with a smile. "Better than Anakin in that, he is." He gestured for them to follow him. "Come. Good food, I will make us. And about yourself, Luke, tell me you can."

****

And Luke did tell Yoda about himself, about bits and pieces of his life on Alderaan—but somehow, he felt that what he'd left unsaid was known by Yoda. Luke suspected that the Jedi Master—perhaps due to the Force or the wisdom of his many years (nine hundred, Luke learned)—knew him better than he knew himself.

His stay on Dagobah seemed to fly by. In that time, Yoda and Obi-Wan taught Luke a lot about Jedi history. They told him about the Jedi Order's high times, its low times, its fall—about the Jedi's place in history and the Republic—about the Jedi hierarchy and customs...And he learned, too, more about the Jedi Purge, that dark time when Anakin Skywalker helped murder countless Jedi—both adults and helpless children.

It was hard for Luke to hear, but they told him about his father's actions in great detail nonetheless. And when he meditated, he often saw scraps of images related to what they told him—a young girl being taken down by a lightsaber—a young boy being hit by several laser blasts—a wise Jedi being shot down by former comrades. The past swirled around him, touching him with its sorrow-filled tendrils.

There was one instance where he came out of his meditations sobbing. That time, he had relived his father's full attack on the Jedi Temple. He had felt the pain and confusion and sense of betrayal experienced by Padawans and younglings and Jedi Knights and Jedi Masters while also feeling the maelstrom of emotions assaulting his father as he extinguished their life-forces. The mass of feelings was overwhelming, and he began to see the true tragic nature of the fall of the Jedi.

After that incident, he became eager to learn as much about the Force as he could, and he asked his Jedi Masters to tell him about the various available Force powers. They only planned to teach him some of them, particularly ones that would come in useful for his next meeting with his father, but he specifically requested that they also teach him at least a few basic lessons on shielding, healing, and illusion.

And so, he and Yoda were presently out in the swamp, and Yoda was teaching him more about the Force.

"Imagine all the details of the creature, you must," the wizened being instructed him. "See them all in your mind."

He pictured the Alderaanian woolly moth in his head, painting with his imagination the many colors upon his wings. And then he turned the mental image outward, reaching to the Force to enable him to project the insect into the air.

In the dark Dagobah night, a giant multi-colored moth fluttered in the air and then came down to land on a fallen tree, where it beat its wings gracefully a few times before becoming still.

The Jedi Master looked at it approvingly. "Done well, you have."

Flushing, but wearing a small proud smile, Luke stared at the moth. It moved off the tree and fluttered in front of Yoda, where it suddenly transformed into a cocoon and then seconds later into an armored caterpillar. The colorful larva squelched across the ground to climb up Yoda's side. Once it stood on his head, it began chattering with its dark mandibles. Yoda gave Luke _a look_, and with a smirk Luke banished the creature.

"Very good," the alien said, trying to hide a smile. He was impressed with Luke's command over even the auditory and tactile aspects of his Force illusion. "Better control over the Force, you are getting."

"Indeed," agreed Obi-Wan, who was walking up to join them. "You have progressed very quickly, young one."

"I have had skilled teachers," the boy said modestly. He shifted his feet uncomfortably.

"And great skill, you do have," Yoda pointed out.

Luke stared down at the muddy ground, holding his tongue. His fingers twitched at his side.

Despite the boy's wordlessness, Obi-Wan could read him quite easily. This issue was one they kept coming to. "Luke, I'm going to talk to you about a Jedi and his powers." He motioned for Luke to join him, and he sat down on a fallen tree next to Yoda. The young man complied with his mentor's wishes, finding himself sandwiched in between the two wise Jedi.

"The Jedi are to help people, Luke," Obi-Wan said gently.

Softly, Luke replied, "I know that."

"It is a good thing for the Jedi to do," the human Jedi pressed. "It is a noble task."

"Yes."

Obi-Wan continued speaking gently. "Luke, humility and selflessness have their places, but you must not run yourself down. You should take praise where praise is due."

Luke tried to protest, "But—"

"Luke," interjected Obi-Wan, "you will make a _great_ Jedi. That is not flattery—it is the truth."

"Yes," Yoda said quietly. "To Obi-Wan, you must listen."

"What you possess is not just potential, Luke, but also strength of will. That is just as important. You're a good person. You _will_ make a good Jedi."

But Luke's face was covered with uncertainty. "But just having these great powers—"

"It is not what you have but what you do with it," Obi-Wan stated firmly. He placed a hand on Luke's shoulder. "You must do what you feel is right. _That_ is the mark of greatness."

The young man opened his mouth as if to speak, but then he closed it and gave a tentative nod.

Yoda put a kind hand on Luke's elbow. Both he and Obi-Wan were there to support Luke. They were his teachers, yes, but they were also his friends. Too often in the past, the Jedi had forgotten the importance of acting as each others' comrades. They would not make that mistake with Luke.

****

Luke was taught the basics of lightsaber combat from Obi-Wan and Yoda for Forms I, III, and IV, and he heard Obi-Wan tell Yoda one time that he appeared to be instinctively aware of some of the Form V swordplay, though Luke was not quite sure what that meant. Finally no longer able to restrain his curiosity, Luke made a few queries and learned that Anakin Skywalker had been one of the form's most prominent practitioners. That fact was interesting, if a bit unsettling.

The young man mostly practiced the forms with one or both of his Jedi Masters looking on and guiding him, though he had actually dueled with Obi-Wan a few times. One day, however, when he came back from his morning jog, he found Obi-Wan smiling mysteriously at him.

"What?" he asked, feeling a tinge of apprehension in his gut.

"It seems Yoda will be dueling with you today," the Jedi said offhandedly.

"Yoda?" Luke echoed, trying not to sound skeptical. The Jedi Master was both small and old and required the use of a cane to walk—how could he hope to be a worthy opponent? And would he even be able to _reach_ Luke's saber with his?

"Yes. Yoda was one of the foremost lightsaber duelists of his day. You mustn't underestimate him. He is a skilled swordsman."

The young man couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, I guess I'll believe it when I see it."

****

And Luke did indeed 'see it.' After but a couple of minutes fighting with the surprisingly spry Yoda (he did _not_ need that cane!), Luke found himself with his back pinned against a tree. Yoda's green blade hovered steadily at his throat. The young man had even, for all his troubles, been scraped once on the arm by Yoda's lightsaber.

"Win, I think I do," the minute Jedi Master said with a smile that would probably have been called smug if it had been on anyone else's face.

"Your overconfidence was your weakness," Obi-Wan pointed out to Luke. "Never underestimate your opponent."

Amused despite the butt-kicking he'd just been given at the hands of a two-feet-tall opponent, the Jedi trainee grinned. "That's a mistake I won't make twice."

Yoda extinguished his blade. "Teach you to heal that, we will." He pointed toward the mark on Luke's arm.

After he shifted so that his back was no longer pressed against the tree, Luke's eyes turned to the wound. It wasn't the worst thing that had happened to his body by far, but it would probably leave a nasty mark if left untended.

"You must feel the Force," Yoda said quietly.

Reaching out, Luke touched that mystical energy field and followed the spoken instructions Yoda gave him. A few minutes later, the tissues were being regenerated, and his wound had been replaced by clear skin. Luke shivered a little bit as he stared at the unmarred spot on his arm. The Force really _was_ powerful...

"You can also go into a healing trance," Obi-Wan noted. "It is good for more intense injuries."

"Teach you that later, we will," Yoda said. He ignited his lightsaber. "Try again with our sabers now, will we." The Jedi Master began to back away to give the young human a little space.

Luke pulled up his saber, moving into a ready stance. He nodded at Yoda, who suddenly struck.

Several parries, feints, strikes, and blocks later, the two were still dueling. Luke's face was covered in a fine sheen of sweat—Yoda was pushing him to his limits, providing a greater challenge than he'd ever suspected he would face on this muddy planet. It was very difficult to keep up with the expert duelist at first, and then at one point—he wasn't quite sure when—he found himself suddenly lost in the Force, embraced by the energy field in a way he had not known was possible. When that happened, he no longer had to think—his body simply responded to Yoda's movements, and he felt as if his lightsaber had become an extension of himself.

Yoda flipped and jumped around, hitting him at every corner, but still he blocked, meeting the swift attacks of the small Jedi Master. And then suddenly he was switching to the offensive, pressing his attack against his opponent, lunging, then striking downward, then swiveling his saber with the brute strength he'd gained in his time on Dagobah and turning one of Yoda's moves against him, pushing him backward slowly but steadily till Yoda's back was nearly touching an upright tree.

Then the Jedi Master jumped up impossibly into the air and flipped over Luke's head, landing on the ground and extinguishing his saber.

Luke twisted around, ready to meet the Jedi. On seeing that Yoda's green blade was no longer visible, he made his own blade disappear and—his chest heaving—gave a short bow toward Yoda.

Yoda called his cane to himself with the Force, and he leaned heavily on it. Breathing hard, he said, "Done well, you have, Luke."

Luke winced. The Jedi was nine hundred years old—he shouldn't have been pushing him so hard.

"You will do well against Vader," Obi-Wan said softly. The sentence felt somehow harsh to Luke, though he did not think that had been Obi-Wan's intention.

Words clung to his throat, but Luke finally managed to push them out. "I—I don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I can kill my own father."

The man was a monster—he couldn't deny that. Darth Vader had done so many terrible things that to deny his classification as monster would be to make a mistake...But he shared blood with Vader—the Sith Lord was the only family Luke had. He _wanted_ to hate him—he could feel the potential for pure animosity just simmering in the back of his mind—but something stopped him from shrouding himself in such animosity. Something made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, the Sith Lord still had good in him.

"If you can't do it, then the Empire has won," Obi-Wan said sadly. He sounded resigned. "You are our last hope, Luke."

"He might be turned—"

"If once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny," Yoda said dismissively. "Too late for him, it is."

The words the two Jedi spoke were composed of wisdom—Luke knew it. It was unlikely that there was even a shred of decency left in Darth Vader. But still, different words were coming from his heart—words of hope.

The words Luke spoke to his two masters were: "I guess you're right." But they weren't the words his heart was speaking.

****

**Author's Note:**** Thanks for the reviews, folks. I'm sorry Vader isn't in this chapter--but he _is _in the next one.**


	18. Jedi: Cavern

**PART 5: JEDI**

**CHAPTER 18: Cavern**

"_Something's happening...I'm not the Jedi I should be. I want more, and I know I shouldn't." —Anakin Skywalker, __Revenge of the Sith_

****

"_Where_ is Luke Skywalker?" Vader growled.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Bail insisted, trying with all his will to stop himself from prying at the Sith Lord's fingers with his own. Moments ago, Vader, a redheaded woman, and a group of Stormtroopers had burst into his home. Now, he was being held up in the air with Vader's hand in a vice-grip around his throat, and his newly-returned daughter was being restrained by the group of Stormtroopers and the woman—with the latter pointing a blaster at her head.

"Liar," the black-armored man said in a low voice. "You know where the adopted son of Arelis Antilles is."

That the Sith Lord was angry, there could be no doubt. But Bail—though he had heard many stories of the Sith Lord's cruelty—and though he had seen the man in states of extreme unhappiness—had never heard of or known Vader to be encompassed with the fury that presently had hold of him. To call Darth Vader enraged would be to put the matter lightly.

"L-Luke Antilles?" the Alderaanian managed in a strangled voice. "I don't know where he is. What—what do you want with him? He's just a boy—"

"Leave my father alone!" Leia pleaded, only to have the blaster at her head jabbed into her temple in warning.

"Be quiet," the redhead said harshly.

"If you are not willing to tell me where he is," Vader said slowly, "then I will have to extract the information from your daughter."

The Sith Lord's fingers withdrew, and Bail was dropped onto the floor, where he remained, dazed, for a few moments before Vader's words caught up to him. "She doesn't know anything," he said hurriedly as he rushed to his feet. He felt consumed by a sudden panic. "She hasn't seen Luke Antilles since before the Emperor's—before Palpatine passed away."

Vader's helmet turned to him. "I can sense your deceit. Do not underestimate the power of the Force, Organa." He gestured for the Stormtroopers and the mysterious woman to start taking the struggling Leia away.

"Father!" the girl exclaimed, trying desperately to get free.

"Leia!" Bail called out as she was pulled from the room. He started to step toward her, only to find himself stopped by an invisible barrier.

Vader was looking at him. "_You_ can reveal Luke's location to me, or she can. But rest assured, I _will_ get that information."

Leia was already gone, and now Vader was stalking from the room.

His heart constricting, Bail found himself crying out after the Sith Lord in desperation, "Anakin!"

Darth Vader swiveled toward him, and Bail felt there was a new chill in the air. Coldly, the man draped in black said, "You forget, _Organa_, that _that_ man is dead."

And then the harbinger of darkness was gone.

Bail fell to his knees, whispering, "No..."

****

Han Solo was approaching the Organa residence with a handful of freshly-picked flowers (he was a softie at heart, though he hated to admit it) when he saw Stormtroopers and a redhead in a black jumpsuit dragging his kicking and screaming girlfriend away from her home.

Knowing it was a matter of 'shoot first, ask questions later,' he brought his illegal holdout blaster up almost instantly, and he shot down two Stormtroopers before the weapon was jerked out of his hands by some invisible force.

Protests hovered at his lips as he watched the blaster fly away from him, only for the words to die unsaid when he realized that it was _Darth Vader_ who had pulled away his weapon.

"Han!" Leia shouted. "Run!"

But before he could even think of escape, the woman in black was at his side, her left arm shooting around his neck and pulling his head down low enough for her to press her blaster into his temple. "Don't move."

Knowing that it was useless to try to get out of the woman's strangle-hold, Han said reluctantly, his hands in the air, "All right."

The redhead looked at Darth Vader. "Maybe we should take him with us as well, Your Excellency," she suggested. "It might get _her_—" she jerked her head in Leia's direction, "—to talk."

The Sith Lord inclined his head. "Very well. Bring him with us."

The woman took Han toward the group of Stormtroopers where Leia gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Han," the young woman whispered.

"What do they want?" Han asked in a low voice.

But she simply looked worried and didn't answer.

****

After returning from one of his morning jogs, Luke found Obi-Wan and Yoda waiting for him by their hut. Despite the vigorousness of his morning routine, the young man was barely sweating; his body had been rather fit even before he had come to Dagobah. But he had certainly been growing more skilled in using the Force by the day, and he was starting to feel like maybe—just maybe—he could do this whole Jedi thing. Upon seeing his masters, however, a sense of foreboding struck him, and he wondered if maybe that feeling was some kind of Force insight.

The two Jedi Masters exchanged a strangely significant look before Obi-Wan turned toward Luke. "We would like you to come on a walk with us, Luke."

After looking from one Jedi to the other, Luke found his mouth dry. As he tried to work moisture into it, he said, "All right."

The young Jedi-to-be was familiar with much of the area surrounding the Jedi Masters' hut. As they walked away from it, he saw a lot of ground he knew well, but then he found they were taking a path he'd never really treaded before. Frowning, he tried to figure out why he had never been this way. Reaching out to the Force for an answer, all he could sense was that he had a feeling of aversion toward this path. Perhaps that had been what had always turned him away from the region.

Their journey was quiet. Luke felt as if perhaps he should be asking questions, but he was being suffocated by the nearly-overwhelming urge to turn around and forsake the path they were traveling. He even found himself being hit in the head with a few vines as he neglected to watch where he was going. His two mentors must have noticed, but they didn't comment.

And then suddenly, they were there. Where 'there' was, Luke wasn't sure, but a feeling of significance seemed to swell up from the place. He and his masters stopped moving, and his eyes wandered the region, finally resting on _it_.

_It_ was a dark, dead tree with many gnarled roots at its base. The giant roots formed a cave on one side, and the tree was surrounded with water. It was like a black fortress protected by a great moat—to enter it could only mean doom.

Luke trembled and then looked to Obi-Wan and Yoda, both of whom had moved to sit on a large root.

"Something isn't right here," the young man said softly. "It feels dark...cold." He took in a shallow breath. "Like death."

Yoda was poking his gimer stick into the ground solemnly, and he looked up to gesture toward the cave. "In there, you must go. Strong, that place is, with the Dark Side of the Force."

"It is a domain of evil," Obi-Wan added softly.

Trying to work past the knot in his throat, Luke queried, "What's in there?"

"Only what you take with you," Yoda answered.

The young man turned his eyes back to the dark and forbidding cave, feeling his skin crawl. He could sense that there was something horrible in there. It repelled him, and he wanted to walk away from it, but it also attracted him. He knew he had to enter.

He moved his hand down to his side, unclipping his lightsaber from his belt.

"Your weapon—you will not need it."

Luke looked at the little Jedi Master and then at the cave. He felt as if the Force were screaming at him now, and he shook his head. He would not leave his lightsaber behind. He did not want to be defenseless.

He walked forward, brushing aside some vines, and then, gathering his resolve, he entered the cave.

The tree cave seemed to be saturated with darkness. It oozed out of the slimy walls, the cave's slithering denizens, and the swampy ground at Luke's feet. Though he was but a few feet in, insects and reptiles seemed to permeate the cave, along with sodden vegetation and the wretched darkness. Knowing he couldn't go very far without light, he lit his saber and held it out before him. A lizard was crawling on part of the wall near him, and he made sure not to disturb it.

He pushed forward, going deeper into the cave. He nearly put his hand against a large spider on the wall and brought it quickly back to himself when he saw the arachnid's eyes glitter in the light his saber was giving off. This place gave him the creeps, and it wasn't just because of the Dark Side's presence.

As he continued, he found himself struck by the eerie quiet of the cave. It felt like death, he'd told Yoda, and the description seemed apt. The tree was like a giant tomb, the home of evil spirits.

_And creepy creatures_, he thought to himself as he saw a formidable-looking snake arching its neck. He passed by it quickly.

His boots squished against the ground of the cave as he walked, a constant yet unwelcome sound. He was a stranger to this cave, and it felt as if the cave knew it. Every noise he made was alien to this silent tomb.

After some amount of time—he was not sure how long, as the cave seemed to warp his perceptions—the area around him widened, and he came upon a chamber that oddly brought to mind the cavern where he'd kept Vader prisoner. That cave, however, had been visually appealing, and this one was most definitely not.

The back side of the chamber was swallowed by darkness, and Luke paused, squinting as he tried to visually penetrate the blackness of the room.

Three figures stepped forward from the void, and his breath caught in his throat. _No..._

Jabba's Head of Slavery was the first to speak. "You are worthlessss," Darsst told him with dark glee, his tongue flicking in and out of his mouth. The darkness suited him, just as it always had in Jabba's Palace. With his black clothes fading into the background, it was hard to make out his face, though his orange-speckled eyes seemed to almost glow in the darkness cowling him.

Luke found himself taking a few steps backward. His heart was racing, and memories from those wretched years spent as the crimelord's slave were flooding back.

"You ssstupid boy. I ssshhhould have killed you when I had the opportunity. You have amounted to nothing, and you will never amount to _anything_."

"No—that's not true," the young man replied, but the words were weak, and his knees were trembling. _They aren't real,_ he tried to tell himself. _They aren't real._ But he thought he could even smell Darsst's musky, unwashed scent, and he felt his stomach revolting at it.

"The Jedi who are training you are fools," the blackest of the figures noted. "They have no power and cannot help you gain any. Join me, and we can rule the galaxy together."

"I can't join you," Luke whispered to the specter of his father. "I can never join you."

Then the figure he'd been dreading to hear from the most took a couple of steps forward. "Luke."

"Don't," he pleaded. He couldn't hear from _her_. He couldn't.

"You left me no choice. I had to die to save you. And how do you repay me? You take on that _monster's_ name." The voice of Arelis Antilles was filled with contempt. "Did those years I spent with you not mean _anything_?"

"Mother," he whispered, stepping toward the Alderaanian woman with a raised hand. She scowled at him, and he brought the limb back down. His trembling right hand clenched his saber tighter.

Darsst was approaching him with a whip. "We will punissshhh you for your mistakes, boy. Worthlessss, worthlessss boy."

"No," Luke said in an almost-snarl. He lifted his saber up, glaring at Darsst.

The Head of Slavery cracked his whip. "You think you can beat me, boy?" he laughed harshly. "You are not worth a drop of Hutt ssspit." His voice was mocking, goading.

"Take that back," the young man said in a slow voice as he slowly stalked forward. The Durnalian's face filled his vision; it seemed to be fixed in a permanently contemptuous mask. Seeing it made hatred well up in Luke's heart, and he found himself wanting to wipe that face from existence.

"You are a coward," Darsst cackled. "You could not kill me even if you wanted to. You are too afraid, you worthlessss human."

"I am not afraid," Luke gritted. His blue eyes glinted coldly in the light given off by his lightsaber.

"Ah, but you _are_ afraid. You have always been afraid. Afraid for your mother and yourself and the galaxy...Afraid of your father and the very galaxy you want to protect...Afraid of what you could become. You, _boy_, are _pathetic_," Darsst spat.

The young man saw the Durnalian, and he saw the blue blade of his own weapon, and a wave of desire slammed into him for the two to meet. Angry but still fighting an internal battle, Luke said warningly, "Do not call me that."

"Worthlessss," hissed the Head of Slavery, lifting his whip to strike Luke.

And then Darsst's head was rolling on the floor, and his body was crumpling to the ground.

Strangely detached but trembling with rage, Luke stared at the cavern floor. There was no blood—just two pieces of a body that had once been whole. Strange, how easy it had been...

The disembodied head hissed, "Worthlessss!" Then it was silent.

"Good," Vader said approvingly, looking down at Luke's handiwork. "The Dark Side makes you powerful. Hold on to that power, Son."

"Force users," Arelis scoffed. "When you fell in with their wretched lot, you turned your back on everything I ever taught you. You're a monster now."

"Mother," he whispered, moving toward her. She was dead—he knew she was dead—but she was here. She was _here_.

The Alderaanian was backing away from him in disgust. "I disown you, Luke. No son of mine will follow the path of those _inhuman_ conquerors. I'm _glad_ I died—it means I was unable to see what you've become."

"Mother—"

"She does not know the power of the Force, Luke. She fears it, hates it—but she does not understand it."

"Shut up!" Luke snarled, swiveling toward Vader. This cave was affecting him—his head was filled with darkness. His mind was a murky mass of confusion. He pointed his saber at the taller man. "_You_ are a monster now. You _can't_ understand! She's my _mother_!"

"She's an apparition of your mother, Luke. Your real mother would want you to use all the power available to you. Feel how your hatred makes you strong, Son."

Luke looked down at his right hand, which was clenching his saber so hard that, had his hand been real, his knuckles would have been white. But the hand wasn't real—it was mechanical—and there was no indication of the strain his body was going through in its appearance. "Shut up!" he shouted for a second time at the armored monstrosity before him. "You forsook your family—you can't know what it's like. You messed up _everything_."

And then Luke was striking, his blue blade locking with Vader's red saber. Strike, parry, strike—and then his saber was deliciously plunging through the middle of Vader's chest. The monster's body fell to the ground.

"Good. You killed him. Just like we should have done in the first place. But even then you were too soft-hearted toward those _Force users_."

Luke stared down at his father's body, noting somewhere in the back of his mind that Darsst's body had disappeared. He fell to his knees, touching one of Vader's gloved hands. "Father..."

"Spawn of the devil, you were. If I'd known you were so tainted when I first found you, I would've left you behind on that planet to live a life of misery. You would have deserved it. Just like he deserves to die. I wish I'd never left that ring for you. The Durnalian was right—you're worthless."

The young man sharply brought his head up, fury etched onto his face. With a lifted hand, he brought his mother up into the air. "I am not worthless," he hissed, quivering.

As she clawed at her throat, she breathed, "Worthless monster." Her body slumped, and he dropped it to the floor.

And then he was rising up off his muddy knees, racing across the slick floor as if he were flying, his saber still clutched in his hand.

Disturbed, angry, confused, sorrowful, he ran through the cave. It seemed to be a never-ending void of darkness, but then he was breaking free of the dark cave's influence, running outside past both Obi-Wan and Yoda, ignoring the words they called out after him.

Eventually, he stopped running. He collapsed onto the ground and began sobbing. He clenched at some mud with his left hand, feeling it slide beneath his fingernails. And then he cried out in pain as his head burst into a vision.

_Screaming, screaming, crying out, "No, no, stop, please!" Screaming again._

"_Leave her alone!"_

_A big figure of darkness, quiet, watching, waiting, listening._

"_I don't know—don't know—don't ahhhhhh—"_

_Shrieking, writhing with pain._

Luke gasped as he broke away from the vision. He was on his side, half of his body covered with slimy mud and bits of wet vegetation. Blinking, he was able to make out Yoda and Obi-Wan standing over him. His eyes still burned from his tears, and his heart was still racing.

"Luke?" Obi-Wan questioned, sounding like a concerned father.

Somehow, Luke got to his feet. He wouldn't meet his mentors' eyes. "I have to leave."

"Luke—" Yoda started.

"Han and Leia are being tortured by Vader," he said in a strained voice. His eyes were closed now. "He's doing it because of me. I have to go help them."

"You're almost through with your training, Luke," the human Jedi Master pointed out quickly. "You need to finish your training—if you leave now, you'll be vulnerable to the Dark Side."

"The cave," Yoda emphasized. "Remember your failure at the _cave_."

"I know I failed," Luke whispered. The experience was still vivid in his mind—indeed, how _could_ he ever remove that terrible picture from his head? "Kreth, Master Yoda, you think I don't know?" He was nearly sobbing again but managed to pull himself together. "But I have to go. They're suffering because of me, and I must save them."

"If go now, you do, then forsake all their efforts up to this point, you will," the alien noted quietly.

"I will not turn. I promise I won't."

"You are too close to the Dark Side right now, Luke," said Obi-Wan gently. He placed a hand on Luke's shoulder. "If you go now, then you will end up becoming Vader's servant."

"There's been too much suffering already," the young man said resolutely. "I won't let there be any more."

But there was a dark glint in Luke's eyes, and Obi-Wan Kenobi found himself very much reminded of Anakin Skywalker.

****

His mind was made up, and the two Jedi had no choice but to see him off. They gave him words of wisdom as he departed, but they suspected that their advice fell on deaf ears.

"He was our last hope," Obi-Wan sighed, watching as the boy raised his shuttle into the air.

"No. He goes to rescue our other hope." Yoda looked at the other Jedi grimly.

****

**Author's Note:**** I regret to say--there's just one more chapter after this one, and then an epilogue. But thank you for all the feedback you've given along the way. :)  
**


	19. Jedi: Meeting

**PART 5: JEDI**

**CHAPTER 19: Meeting**

"_Military power wins battles, but spiritual power wins wars." —General George Catlett Marshall_

****

Luke brought the droids with him to Coruscant. It would have been better had he left them behind on Dagobah, but he had decided he didn't want to be without company—for he was fearful of being alone with his thoughts. He tried to ask questions and listen to the chatty Threepio's long-winded answers and to the occasional quiet chiming in of Opakwa or Artoo, but his head was being invaded by dark thoughts despite his attempts to distract himself. They remained a determined army he was unable to hold at bay.

Images from his Force vision and from the tree cave blurred together in his mind. Pain and death seemed to intermingle in a maelstrom of despair, the likes of which he'd never truly experienced. He saw the dying face of that apparition of his mother—Leia Organa's features contorted in pain—Darsst's severed head lying on the floor—Han Solo shouting to _stop_, to _stop_—his blade piercing his father's black armor. His vision started to swim, and he fought against the blackness, wrestling to regain full control of his consciousness and focus on the outside world and finally succeeding.

"—seems rather interesting to me," Threepio was saying. He tilted his head, noting his new master's unusual bio signs. "Master Luke, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Threepio," the young man heard himself saying distantly. He waved his hand in front of his face—the motion was blurry, and he was starting to see black spots in front of his eyes. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against his seat. Stars, how could he face his father again? Especially after—after the cave...

He had told his mentors that he wouldn't turn to the Dark Side—but he feared the promise had been a lie. The fear, anger, and aggression Yoda had warned him against were hovering around him. He feared that there was nothing he could do to stop his slip into darkness—and he was angry that he felt so helpless. In that cave, the Dark Side had briefly sunk its claws into him, and now it was prowling like a predator around a dying campfire, waiting for his light to go out so that it could pounce one final time. If it did, there would likely be no escape for him.

Artoo whistled something that sounded worried, not believing in the human's assertion of the "fine" nature of his state of being.

"Don't worry, Artoo," Luke said softly. But he didn't say that there was nothing to worry about.

****

Luke left the droids inside the ship. Artoo, strangely faithful, tried to follow him, but he ordered the droid to please, _please_ stay behind. If Luke didn't return, Artoo would need to pilot the ship to Alderaan.

"You need to save them, Artoo," he told the little droid. "They won't survive without you."

The astromech gave a sad whistle and watched him leave. He had been wrong to bring the droids—he knew that now. That which was before him was something he had to face alone.

With the Force pulsating around him, waiting for him to call it to him, he found it easy to navigate through the Imperial Palace despite its heavy security. Stormtroopers made particularly weak-minded guards and were easily persuaded by a fledgling Jedi such as him, and he began to see how it had been easy for Obi-Wan and Han to help him escape the Palace.

As he walked down the palace's corridors, he waved his hand occasionally in the air, drawing attention away from himself. With his whole body swathed in black and the hood of his cloak pulled down over his face, he was often the focus of curiosity, but the Force ensured that an undesirable scene was never made.

The Force also guided him to his intended destination. By reaching into their minds, Luke was able to render the guards posted outside the room unconscious. He winced as their bodies slumped to the floor. It felt wrong to use the Force in such a way, but at least they would be unharmed. At least he had not killed them.

He closed his eyes, concentrating on the inner workings of the door. The door was passcoded, and he didn't know the number, but with a little luck and a judicious use of the Force...

The door slid open.

Luke stepped forward into the room. Han and Leia were both slumped over onto cots, unconscious. They looked spent—their faces were haggard, and even in sleep they seemed to be in pain.

The young man's eyebrows turned downward and inward, and his lips pressed together in anger.

Behind him, he heard someone's soft footsteps approaching. Without turning around, he asked in a low voice, "Where is he?"

"I'll take you to him," Mara Jade said, also quiet.

There was a coldness between them now, as if distance had done something to them. He'd changed, he knew, and perhaps she had, too. After all, she had a new master now—during the time he was gone, she must have realized that.

After one last look at his friends—no, he'd never really let himself get close enough to anybody to truly call them 'friend,' had he?—Luke turned and followed Mara Jade out of the room.

She took him back through the Palace corridors to the private throne room. Luke's father was waiting in the room, though he wasn't sitting at the throne. Palpatine had always relished the feeling of sitting on that giant chair, but Emperor Vader—for he had finally declared himself to be such—was standing in front of the seat of power, gazing slightly upward at a hologram map of the galaxy. Holographic stars and planets rotated slowly around him. His gaze was focused on one in particular, but then he pressed a button, and the map disappeared. His helmet lowered as he moved his gaze to rest on the two newcomers.

"Father," Luke greeted quietly.

"Son," the larger man returned.

Luke noticed that Mara did not even falter upon hearing their exchange. Apparently, she already knew of the blood that stood between them. Well, there was no reason to keep it secret from her, anyway.

"I feel your power," Vader commented. There was a smoothness to his voice, a certainty. "You have learned much, young one."

"And _you_ have been busy as well," Luke said, fighting to keep a growl out of his voice. But his emotions were easily readable, and a muscle in his cheek was twitching. Han and Leia should have never been brought into this. He would have faced Vader eventually—he had just wanted some _time_.

"I knew they would bring us together one way or another," noted Vader with that self-assurance that had always been dripping off Palpatine. It seemed the transformation to emperor was complete.

"_How_ could you torture them?" the young man snarled, unable to keep himself from expressing his anger. "They never did anything to—"

Vader cut him off, his own anger easily evident. "But they _did_, Son. Or did you think I didn't know about Leia Organa's involvement with the Rebel Alliance? She is a traitor and should be executed."

"I'm a traitor, too," Luke said, stepping forward, eyes flashing. "Why haven't you killed me? Or have you forgotten that _I_ was the one who fired the shot that destroyed your precious _Death Star_?"

"That technological terror was a product of Palpatine's madness," Vader growled. "It was but a tool for me. It cannot compare with the power of the Force."

"Everything's a tool for you, isn't it?" Luke had stopped moving and was standing a few yards away from his father.

"Your anger betrays you," the Sith Lord said quietly. His own fury from moments ago had cooled. "Do you know how much your friends suffered because you hid yourself from me?"

Luke's right hand twitched. The handle of his saber dangled at his hip.

"You thought you could grow strong enough with the Light Side of the Force to defeat your father. But you didn't have the power to stop your friends from suffering...And you don't have the power to save your companions from dying." The dark helmet seemed even blacker in the dim light of the throne room. "I hold that power."

The young man closed his eyes for a moment, trying to push away his anger, trying to find peace...But peace was elusive, and images of Leia and Han in pain swam in front of his lowered eyelids.

"I can kill them, Son. And the only way to stop me is to strike me down or join me. In this room, anger and hatred are your only allies."

Calm...Peace...Luke tried to find them, to grasp at them—he needed them—_stars_, how he needed them—

"I will kill them, Luke. They have served their purpose, and I no longer need to keep them alive."

Luke struck. His blue lightsaber came arcing down toward Vader's head—

—only to be blocked by Mara's red blade.

Breathing hard with the rage-filled adrenaline thundering through his veins, Luke stared at Mara with blinding hatred flaring in his eyes as their sabers remained locked in the air above Darth Vader. "You shouldn't have done that," the young man growled before brutally attacking, pressing Mara backward and down the steps in front of the throne. She tripped and almost fell, but she managed to duck to the side and escape his fierce downward slash.

Their blue and red sabers flashed against each other as the battle was waged around the room. Mara was forced to stay on the defensive as Luke's fury was expressed in a series of power-filled slashes. He pressed her against a wall, but she managed to roll out of it, bringing her lightsaber up and biting her lip in concentration. Sweat was already beginning to cling to her face, while Luke seemed barely affected by their duel—his arms seemed tireless, and she could not match his strength. It was only her speed that was enabling her to survive this battle. And even that would soon fail her. Luke was too powerful. During the time he'd been away, she had become resigned to her place in life—but _he_ had become committed.

Their weapons hummed angrily, and she whipped her saber up to block another one of his blows, jumping off to the side into a careful roll as he swung his most powerful attack yet. She came up to her feet from the roll with her lightsaber ready, swallowing as she saw the look of rage etched onto Luke's face. His was a face not meant for such intense anger, but it was covered in it.

"Good," Vader said simply, watching their fight with dark pleasure. His son was embracing the Dark Side—anger was swelling up around him like a storm—the Dark Side was reigning triumphant.

If the young man heard Vader's utterance, he didn't show it. His concentration was on the fiery blue-white blade clenched in his hands. He struck at his opponent from the side, then from above, and then he lunged, nearly impaling Mara, who brought her blade up just in time to push his weapon aside so that it only grazed her hip. She hissed in pain, and he used that moment of distraction to twirl their sabers around and disarm her, flinging her now-unlit saber aside and forcing her down to her knees.

He was pointing his lightsaber at her throat, panting with the dark exertion he'd been putting forth.

The young woman closed her eyes. She waited for Vader to tell Luke to kill her. And she waited for Luke to do it. It was what her master would have encouraged had he still been alive. It was the way of the Sith to destroy the weak.

****

Luke stared down at his opponent, at the red flames that were her hair and the pale ice that was her skin. Fire and ice meant nothing to him. He could extinguish both. And as for the two green seeds planted beneath the flames in part of the ice—that was as nothing to him as well.

He brought his saber to the side, ready to separate the flames from the bulk of that ice, to cut off the connection which enabled both to dog his footsteps, but then the two seeds disappeared.

He paused, staring downward. He had not done anything—what had happened?

His rage was slowly replaced by confusion, and that confusion was slowly placed by understanding. The one before him was no amalgamation of matter or elements but a _person_. Not an opponent, not a rival even—just someone making her way in the world just as he had been.

Someone he had grown to care for.

And then he heard a whisper of a word—a word that was spoken in tones that were somehow both pleading and resigned—a word that meant "light"—a word that he called his name and that signified his identity.

****

It was Mara's heart that pushed Luke's name from her lips. She barely heard the word, though she spoke it in an expression of a wordless desire, of a hope, a wish that everything could be different. It was not her life that she was pleading for—but _a_ life. A possibility of a life which he had shown to her—a life she hadn't known could exist.

But though her soul sought expression in the speaking of his name, her mind had hold of her body, and she drew in several deep breaths as she waited for his blade to fall. She was resigned to death—resigned to lose that possibility of a life. How fitting it was that he who had showed her the possibility would be the one to take it away from her.

And yet, as the seconds ticked away, she realized that somehow the possibility had not disappeared—somehow, her life was still intact. In confusion, she opened her eyes and looked up at Luke. He had shut down his saber and was turning to Vader. The mad look in his eyes was gone, replaced by a sort of resigned sadness. The Dark Side aura that had been surrounding him had vanished.

Suddenly, she felt a sense of relief—and of hope. She fixed her eyes on Luke's face, trying to read the light and the newfound sense of peace which were present in it.

****

"I won't kill her," the young man stated quietly as he advanced toward his father. He felt almost as if the ring Arelis had given him, which he had kept tucked in his pocket as a reminder of her sacrifice ever since it had been given to him, was beginning to throb. He was back on the right path—he couldn't believe how close he'd been to forsaking it forever. The fire he had faced and triumphed over had forged him anew. "Mother—your wife—would never have approved of all this, Father. I heard much about her—I was taught much. Though she could use a blaster, I know she hated war, battles, strife. She wouldn't want this from us...From either of us."

"Pad—she is _dead_," the Sith Lord growled. His voice was defensive yet dark.

"Do you know why she's dead, Father? Obi-Wan told me."

"Obi-Wan?" hissed Vader. "He is _alive_?" He had suspected as much, but the truth still surprised him.

Luke stared at the Sith Lord intently with his clear blue eyes. "He told me she died of a broken heart, Father."

"It—it was not my hand that killed her?" Vader asked softly. Palpatine had told him that in his rage he had killed her—could it be that was a lie? After learning of Luke's existence, he had simply assumed that she had died after childbirth due to injuries he had given her...

"She was perfectly healthy, but she couldn't live without you," the young man told him. "You shouldn't have done what you did, Father. You shouldn't have sold your soul to save your wife's body."

Vader turned his helmet away from Luke. Despite his greatest efforts, he had been unable to save his wife. Instead, he had been the one that caused her to die—but in a way that had been completely unnecessary and wholly tragic. And now, here he was, trying to make his son follow the path he had trodden. Could he really do that?

He brought his eyes back toward his son, who was pointing his lit blue saber at himself.

"I would rather kill myself than turn to the Dark Side, Father. All the Dark Side brings is suffering." But despite his words, the boy extinguished his saber and dropped to his knees, pointing his face toward the floor as he revealed the back of his neck. "If you are a true acolyte of the Dark Side," he said quietly, "you will kill me now...For I will never serve the Dark Side as you have. I will merely hamper your dark progress until I die. As the Dark Side's servant, you cannot afford to let me live."

Vader's legs somehow carried him over to the youth, and his arms somehow ignited his sword. The ruby blade hovered over Luke's neck as the Sith Lord stared down at the young man.

Nearby, Mara Jade was watching him. She had stood up, and her face was a blank mask. But with the Force, Vader could sense the myriad of emotions pouring off her.

Vader lifted his hand, the lightsaber rising into the air above Luke's head with a low hum. His hands trembled, and he extinguished the weapon and threw it away. And then words escaped him which did not belong to Emperor Vader: "I cannot kill my own son."

The boy stared up at him with an expression that was equal parts joy and relief. "Then my father lives again."

****

**Author's Note:** **Thanks again to Phantom Jedi for beta-reading this whole thing and for looking over this chapter (plus the epilogue) multiple times for me!  
**


	20. Epilogue: Man

**EPILOGUE: MAN**

"_But some emotions don't make a lot of noise. . . . Caring is real faint – like a heartbeat. And pure love—why, some days it's so quiet, you don't even know it's there."—Erma Bombeck_

_****_

"You've almost got it," Luke said warmly, moving toward her to fix a few details of her stance. With a gesture, he guided Mara to where she should place her right foot, and then he placed his hand on her right elbow to change its angle. After putting her arm in the proper position, his hand lingered on her bare skin for a few moments, and then he pulled it away, embarrassed with himself.

He was a full Jedi Knight now. After Vader's conversion, Luke had returned with him to Dagobah to see Yoda and Obi-Wan. Yoda had spoken a few happy words to them before passing away, for, with Vader (who was now called "Anakin") turned back to the Light and Luke having passed his trials, the wizened being had no longer needed to cling to life. And so, he had disappeared into the Force bearing the knowledge that the Jedi would rise again. It was a day of sadness, certainly, but it engendered a hope in all of them for the future.

Luke had wanted to train Mara himself, and Anakin and Obi-Wan had being easily convinced to let him do so—the problem had come in convincing Mara to _be_ trained, but she had agreed at last. Every now and then, however, he found himself regretting his request, for he found his emotions to be in a turmoil most of the time he was around her.

"Thanks for taking a chance on me," the redhead said quietly as he moved in front of her to double-check her stance with a critical. "And for wanting to train me—despite everything..."

The young Jedi gave her a tender smile. His fingers came up of their own accord and brushed her cheek gently. "Everyone deserves a second chance, Mara."

He thought she deserved one most of all. During the time he'd spent with her—both when she was an Imperial and when she was a Jedi trainee—he'd found glimpses of the wonderful person she hid beneath a tough exterior. The woman who had laughed at his terrible attempt at juggling—well, that was the woman he had given his heart to. He didn't know when or how it had happened, but it had. He cared deeply for her, and the time they had been spending together during her training had simply driven that fact home. He had known there was a danger she would flee—that the collapse of the Empire might lead her to forsake every part of her past life—but he had somehow managed to convince her to stay.

The young woman avoided his gaze, so he lifted her chin with his hand. His two blue orbs stared steadily at her. "You're a good person, Mara," he told her sincerely. "All you needed was a chance to shine."

Though she shook her head at his somewhat lame choice of words, a tear glistened in her eye, and he slowly and carefully wiped the droplet away with his thumb.

She gave a weak attempt at a smile, but those vivid green eyes of hers gazed at him with a thoughtful intensity. "You're a great man, Luke. I'm just sorry I didn't see that before."

Luke blushed and withdrew his hand, his modest gaze going to the ground. Then she grabbed his chin and pulled his face down toward hers.

The young man was startled when Mara's lips met his, but he soon found himself responding to her gesture with all his heart, even tangling his fingers in her beautiful red-gold hair as his heart cried out, "Yes!"

When they pulled away, he noticed with no small pleasure that her face was flushed—she had apparently been just as affected by the kiss as he had.

"Luke," she whispered, her voice tentative and unsure, "I think—I think I love you."

As cliché as it was, Luke felt like his heart—which had before been shouting—was now beginning to sing. "I love you, too, Mara," he said quietly. It felt good to get the words out at last—being so close to her these past several months had been torture, for he had felt like everyone was moving forward but him and Mara. Shortly after his conversion, Anakin had called a meeting of the Imperial Senate and reinstated the Republic, handing over the power of chancellor to the surprised Bail Organa. Not long after that, Luke's sister—how strange it was still to think of Leia as that—had gotten married to Han. When the two had announced that they would be having twins, Luke had been happy for them, but he had begun to despair that he could ever lead a life like theirs. But now—now, there was hope. And really, he'd carried a private hope for a short while now—he just hadn't known how close it was to coming true.

Mara's eyes searched his unsurely. "But Luke—I'm—I'm not really sure I know how to love."

Smiling at her reassuringly, he grabbed both her hands with his left. "We'll learn together, Mara." His right hand searched his pocket for his mother's gift to him. Perhaps the kind but hopeful woman had thought he might never get the chance to use it in the way it was meant to be used, but she'd given it to him all the same. It was a token of hope from her to him.

As he opened the small box and revealed Arelis's mother's wedding ring, a few simple but significant words passed his lips: "Mara...Will you marry me?"

Several years ago, if asked, she would have said that there was never a chance she would get married, much less that she would _want_ to marry anyone. Now, however, more than a year after that important but harrowing experience in the throne room where she had begun the journey of discovering that a life of hate was no life at all, she found herself accepting the ring Luke proffered with a quiet "I will."

This time—with a smile he felt could never disappear—Luke pressed his lips to hers.

Balance had been brought to the galaxy—it might be a shaky balance, it was a balance nonetheless. And he—well, he had never known he could ever be so happy. He was no longer a boy wracked with indecision over what path his life should take. He was now a man.

He knew now that he was someone of worth, and he'd finally found peace with himself. Stars, how happy he was.

****

**Author's Note:** **Thanks for sharing this journey with me! It was a fun write. I appreciate all the reviews a lot.  
**

**Fic Trivia:** **This fic didn't go as expected. The Luke-as-politician part was going to become a fic called "The Campaigner," while the Luke-as-slave part was going to become a fic called "Worthless." Combining the ideas meant neither title worked. Several things I intended—Vader's actually retrieving Luke on Alderaan, Palpatine's actual survival after retrieving Vader, Alderaan's destruction and Arelis's subsequent death leading to Luke being angry at the Empire—just refused to happen, and the Alderaan "conspiracy" wrote itself well into the second part.**


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